


The Cost of Time

by RavenHairedPrincess



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, HP: EWE, Mystery, Romance, Time Turner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 23:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 40,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14365674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenHairedPrincess/pseuds/RavenHairedPrincess
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts with Harry and Ron to assist Professor McGonagall eight weeks after the war has ended, and her life takes an unexpected turn.  A different take on the ss/hg time turner fic.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Anything recognizable belongs to J. K. Rowling. This fiction was written for fun, and no money is being made from it.

Hermione wiped the tears from her cheeks after Harry recounted Professor Snape’s memories. “I don’t even know what to say,” she sniffled.

“Nor do I, Hermione,” Harry responded. “I have to believe it all worked out the way it was supposed to.” He offered her a hand up from the stone step she had been sitting on.

Ron stood up beside her and put an arm around her shoulders, “We’ve all made sacrifices, Mione. You have to focus on the big picture.” He gently pushed her forward toward the door after Harry. “My family needs us right now.”

Hermione and Ron reached the door only to be stopped by an unexpected voice, “May I have a word, Miss Granger.”

Her heart skipped a beat momentarily. Hermione spun around on her feet to see the portrait of Dumbledore smiling at her kindly. “Of course, Sir.” Looking back at Ron she said, “Go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay, sure,” he said giving her hand a squeeze.

She waited until Ron was out of sight to turn back around and face Dumbledore’s portrait. “Sir?” she said moving closer to him. 

“I’m glad to see my plans have worked out in the end,” he said lightly, “However, there is something that I overlooked.” He suddenly looked very pensive. 

“Sir?” she asked worried about what he was going to tell her. Was Voldemort going to return? Her stomach turned over with fear and anxiety.

“See that globe off to your right?,” he almost whispered. “Turn it counter clockwise twice, then clockwise once.”

Hermione looked at him apprehensively, then made her way over to the globe that seemed to be hovering over the stand on its own accord. After following Dumbledore’s instructions, she looked back at him and said, “Ok. Was something supposed to happen, Sir?” Hermione began to feel frustrated. She should be with Ron and Harry, not entertaining an old man’s portrait, even if it was Dumbledore’s. 

“Now, place the tip of your wand on Rome and say, Denude,” he instructed while looking back at the open doorway.

She did as she was told, not knowing what to expect. Hermione gasped as the surface of the globe started to fade away. Something was inside, but she couldn’t make out what. She took a step back in fear. Only moments later, a small black pouch with a gold draw string was floating above the globe stand. 

“Go ahead, Miss Granger,” Dumbledore encouraged. 

With trembling hands, Hermione grabbed the bag and looked back at the portrait still feeling unsure. He only nodded to her to proceed. One look inside the bag stunned her. It was a time turner; a broken one, but still. “Sir, I thought they had all been destroyed, as in obliterated.”

“Sadly, yes. This one, however, I’d had for quite a few years. It was broken during an altercation in my youth, actually,” he said looking a little remorseful. “Please tell no one about it. Keep it safe.”

She frowned at him and said, “but it’s broken, Sir. How dangerous can a broken time turner be?”

With a disappointed look, he answered, “Far more dangerous than one that’s working properly.” He shook his head at her apparent ignorance. “I had thought that you would understand that more so than anyone, given your history with such an object.”

“Of course, Sir. Forgive me. It’s been a very long day. But what am I to do with it?” she asked.

“It’s up to you now. I trust your judgment. Now, I believe you have somewhere else to be, yes?” he smiled at her brightly.

Stuffing the bag into her purse, she nodded. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll do what I can to make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”


	2. The Assignment

Hermione sat in the Headmaster’s, correction, the headmistress’ office with Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley’s. The remaining Order members were also present. Looking around the room, Hermione couldn’t help but feel a soul sucking sense of sorrow. Nearly half of them were gone. Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus and Tonks, Moody, Fred, and Professor Snape. Professor Snape. Still, two months after the war, she could not wrap her head around what they had learned. She wasn’t even sure how she felt, aside from a burning in her stomach that she thought might be what an ulcer felt like. No, she just couldn’t think about him. Not yet anyway. Hermione’s mind was spinning as the others discussed a plan to repair the school. She was only vaguely aware of Headmistress McGonagall doling out tasks. After several minutes of chatter, the sound of her name jerked her away from her internal musings.

“Miss Granger, do you think you can handle the task?” she asked. The headmistress looked at her expectantly for an answer.

Feeling embarrassed she had not been paying attention, Hermione answered hoping no one would know she had been drifting away mentally, “Yes. I think so.” Hermione relaxed when the headmistress nodded her head in approval.

“Very well. We should get started right away, then. Dinner will be ready in the Great Hall in about three hours. We will discuss sleeping arrangements then,” McGonagall addressed the occupants of the room. The small crowd murmured their agreement. She led them out of her office and onto the spiral staircase.

Hermione stood next to Ron in the back, who was giving her an odd look. She had been so out of sorts since the war ended, even her feelings for Ron were becoming muddled. The more time they spent together as a couple, the more apparent it became that they had nothing in common outside of the war and Hogwarts. He was still as obsessed with quidditch as ever. She tried to take an interest in it, but his lack of effort to reciprocate left her feeling resentful. 

Aside from that, when they kissed it felt comfortable. Not that comfortable was bad, but it sure was the opposite of exciting. Shouldn’t it be exciting? In a desperate attempt to create that passion for him she once felt, she slept with him. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself. While she found that he was rather sweet about it, Hermione felt dissatisfied afterwards. She may as well have lost her virginity to Harry. Yes, that’s exactly how it felt. 

“Are you bloody mad?” he asked her as everyone spilled out into the hallway and began to go their own ways. 

“No, Ronald I am not.” She huffed and folded her arms in front of her chest. “Why is it you are questioning my sanity this time?”

His shoulders dropped in defeat, and he looked away from her at the retreating forms of the others. “Mione, I know you’ve been having a hard time. Are you sure this is a good idea? It’s okay to change your mind. No one even has to know. I can clean out Snape’s room for you, and you can do the charms classroom.”

She stared at him unblinking. Snape’s room? Is that what she had agreed to? She couldn’t possibly have. “I’ll be fine Ron,” she responded with annoyance, more at herself than anything. “I’m perfectly capable of packing up a room.” 

“I know you are. I’m just-,“ he paused and grabbed her by the hand, “send your patronus if you need me okay?”

Thinking about how ready he was to do it for her made her feel badly about snapping at him. “Sure,” she agreed but had no intention of doing so. She watched Ron head for the stairs and had to bite her lip to keep from screaming out her frustration. After a few deep breaths, she turned and started down the path to the dungeons. As most of the damage was to the ground floor of the castle and up, she was the only one going down the cold damp passage.

An uneasy feeling crept up on her as she realized that, in all the times he had made this walk down to the dungeons, she had never done it alone. There were no friends chatting with her, there were no students leaving potion’s class, no Slytherins heading to their common room, and there was no Professor Snape at her destination. Hermione drew her wand and lit the torches along the path. While that didn’t completely put her at ease, she no longer felt like she was wandering the halls in some horror movie. 

Once she reached the potion’s classroom door, she realized that she would have to find the potion master’s quarters. She didn’t know where they were, and because she hadn’t been paying attention, she didn’t think to ask. Taking a guess, Hermione continued down the hallway further to Professor Snape’s office. She’d been in there only once before, and it was to ask about the syllabus at the beginning of her third year because she was trying to plan around the time turner business. He had only barked at her, told her she was intentionally trying to pester him, seeing as how he hadn’t even yet assigned the report she was inquiring about. 

She hadn’t noticed a door, other than the one that was slammed in her face that is. Hermione really hadn’t been in there long enough to have a proper look around. When she reached the door to his office, she was surprise that it opened without any resistance. Of course, then she realized there wouldn’t be any wards. Not his anyway. He was certainly a powerful wizard, but even Merlin couldn’t keep his wards up after death. 

The sun was just setting, and the light from the window looking into the lake was a dim green. After lighting a few oil lamps, Hermione conjured some boxes to start putting Professor Snape’s personal items in. She would have to ask McGonagall about the books, as she did not want to presume either way. Starting at his desk, she moved to sit in the leather chair and ran her hand across the dark grain of the wood. Although it was smooth to the touch, it had clearly been used for many years. Many tea and coffee rings decorated its surface, as well as some ink stains. The layer of dust gave the room an abandoned feeling.

Deciding to just dive right in and get this over with, Hermione pulled open the top right drawer. She let out a big breath of air upon seeing typical items a Professor would keep in his or her desk. What was she expecting, a basilisk? Shaking her head at her own ridiculousness, she began to pack up the quills, bottles of red and black ink, and what not. Thankfully the rest of his office went by much the same way. She did wonder, however, who was going to take possession of these items she was packing up. 

Harry had told her about his childhood and his home on Spinner’s End. Surly if he inherited the home, that would mean his parents were deceased. They had known so little about him that she wondered if anyone knew who he would want to have his things. She would have to talk to McGonagall about that tomorrow. It wasn’t like it was a pressing matter at the moment. Hermione was at a loss, however, when she came to packing the jars of specimens. She did the only thing she could think of which was shrink them and wrap them in parchment. 

Hermione ran out of spare parchment with two bottles left to go, but decided that the discarded daily prophet on a side table would work just as well. Picking it up, she noticed the date. May 28th, 1997. The day Dumbledore died. Had he not been back in this office since that day? Never once during his time as headmaster of Hogwarts did he step foot in his office? Suddenly remembering that day, Hermione started to feel dizzy and had to sit down. She had been in here that day as well, with Luna, and with as stunned Professor Flitwick. That was without question, a horrible day. For Professor Snape as well, she mused. Perhaps he didn’t want to come back in here for that same reason. 

Why hadn’t the house elves emptied the garbage in all this time? They certainly haven’t dusted either. Maybe he refused their services. Perhaps he was too paranoid. Hermione laughed out loud as she thought that he had probably been so rude to them, that they refused to come back in here. For some reason, the thought was hysterically funny. It seemed too similar to her upsetting the elves herself, leaving Dobby with having to clean Gryffindor tower all by himself.

Wiping her eyes dry, she realizing she was late for dinner. Hermione dusted herself off and headed up to the Great Hall. That really hadn’t been as bad as she was expecting, but in all honesty, she wasn’t sure if she could handle cleaning his private quarters. Maybe she would talk to McGonagall about it. She sure wasn’t going to admit to Ron that he may have been right. The thought made her cringe. 

“Where’ve you been, Mione? We were starting to worry about you,” Ron said as she walked in through the side door. He was piling potatoes onto an already overcrowded plate. 

“Lost track of time. That’s all,” she answered sitting down beside him. Throughout dinner she tried to keep up with the light conversation. Sipping on her third glass of wine, she glanced over at Harry. He had a rather worn look about him these days. The war certainly had taken its toll on him. Apparently, he had been helping Hagrid and Professor Sprout rebuild Green House Three. Hermione remained seated as everyone started clearing out. 

“Hermione, dear, I just wanted to say thank you,” McGonagall said placing a hand on her shoulder from behind her. “I really wasn’t sure how I was going to deal with Severus’ belongings given the way things were left between us.” She sounded genuinely sad.

The fact that everyone has had to face turning their backs on the one person who sacrificed the most for them had slipped her mind. It wasn’t just her. It would be hard for anyone. She swallowed the shame she felt about considering asking McGonagall to relieve her of the task, and said, “Absolutely, Professor.”

“Please, call me Minerva,” she said squeezing her shoulder. “We went over the sleeping arrangements before you got here. The house elves have made up small private rooms along the library corridor. Just spell the door to turn blue once you’re inside. It will indicate that it’s occupied. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you,” she turned and smiled up at her. After everyone had left, she looked out over the empty Hall. She could almost hear the chatter that occurred before a quidditch match. Smiling to herself, she stood and had to steady herself by grabbing the table. A bit too much wine, she supposed. Hopefully it would help her get through some of the Professor’s room. She groaned as she realized she never asked where his quarters were.


	3. Uncharted Territory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My intention is for Nyala to be pronounced (N eye A la). I looked for the spelling online for how I wanted her name to sound, but I came up short in the end.

Once back in Snape’s office, now nearly empty, she began to doubt there was an entrance to his quarters in there. She headed back out toward the hall, not at all looking forward to aimlessly wandering the dungeons. She stopped as she reached the door, “No,” she dismissed her silly thought. She looked back over her shoulder at the empty room. She felt rather stupid walking back to the bookshelf on her left. She pushed it, but it didn’t budge. The only reason she was doing this was because she figured she would feel even dumber if she missed the obvious. Thoroughly convinced she hadn’t missed anything, she left the office and headed further down into the dungeons.

Hermione came cross an abandoned classroom and a few broom closets. Standing outside the Slytherin common room, she growled her frustration and leaned against the door. Sliding down, she sat on the cold floor with her head in her hands. How did she manage to forget to ask where his room was? Tears welled up in her eyes, and she felt even more foolish. 

Turning her head to wipe the tears on her upper sleeve, she looked at the blurry wall to her right. Her tears were obscuring her vision to the extent of having depth perception difficulties. Blinking several times did not make the wall any clearer, however. Standing up, she studied the wall carefully. It looked normal, yet it didn’t somehow. She couldn’t tell if it was a solid wall straight across or if it was angled leading further back into the castle. Hesitantly, she reached out to it.

Nothing. No wall, just more space. She tentatively walked through the space or into the space rather. “It’s an illusion,” she thought out loud, just like the barrier to platform 9 ¾. Yes, she was certainly in the right place. She suddenly felt sorry for the Slytherins as she imagined it must have been quite nerve racking having Professor Snape just walked through the wall when they were standing outside their common room. The walls curved inward tightly, spiraling down further under the castle until she could no long see any light from the hallway.

“Lumos,” she cast as she walked further onward. “Thank Merlin,” she exclaimed as she finally came to a heavy wooden door with a gothic portrait hanging on the front of it. 

“Tis’ some visitor tapping at my chamber door, only this and nothing more,” said a smooth sultry voice coming from the portrait.

Hermione stepped back with a start but then stepped closer holding her wand up for a better look. A fair skinned woman with black hair, heavy black eye makeup, and blood red lips was petting a large black bird in what appeared to be a graveyard. “Hello,” she said to the woman in the flowing green skirt and black corset. 

“Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; but the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,” the woman frowned at Hermione with a pout that could put all others to shame.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” Hermione said, confused because she had never knocked. “I’m afraid I don’t know your name. I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Charmed. I’m Nyala,” the woman said just before hoisting the bird into the air. She turned back to Hermione after watching the bird fly away, its flapping wings echoing down the passage Hermione stood in. “What brings you my way?” she asked looking Hermione over.

Hermione suddenly felt insecure under the striking woman’s gaze. “I’ve been sent to clean out Professor Snape’s quarters,” she answered hoping this wasn’t going to be a big shock to the woman in the portrait. 

“Mmm,” Nyala grinned wickedly at Hermione before swiftly shifting into a serious expression; one of worry. “The old man sprang up in bed, crying out—“Who’s there?” I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in bed listening;-- just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.” Upon seeing Hermione’s expression of unease, Nyala laughed. 

“What an awful thing to say! Just let me in, so I can do my job and be on my way,” Hermione demanded. 

“The old man was dead,” Nyala continued on. “I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eyes would trouble me no more.”

“Just stop. Those are ridiculous lies,” Hermione said angrily.

“If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body,” the Nyala's eyes were alive with mirth. “First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.”

“That’s enough!,” Hermione shouted pulling her wand up to the portrait. 

Nyala threw her hands up in mock surrender, “Surely you’ve read Poe before. Most famous poet in the wizarding world.” 

Suddenly, Hermione felt stupid. Of course, she thought. “Still, it’s not funny,” she said with venom.

Smiling seductively, Nyala said, “Severus always thought so. Well, when he was in a decent mood at any rate. Do you usually lack a sense of humor?”

“Look, it’s been a long day. These rooms aren’t even supposed to be guarded anymore. Are you going to let me in or not?” Hermione asked.

“Just because they aren’t warded, doesn’t mean I should shop doing my job,” she shook her head at Hermione. “Why should I let you in? What do you think Severus would have to say about it?”

Hermione took a deep breath and decided she should try to play nicely before just blasting this stubborn woman off the door. “If you want to have company ever again, someone else will have to move in to these rooms. That cannot happen if I don’t get them cleared out. It’s not like you have any attachment to his personal belongings, is it?”

“Hmm. You do have a point,” she crossed her arms pushing her breasts up even higher. “You’ll be respectful, yes?”

“Always,” Hermione promised. 

“Very well. Just be careful,” Nyala warned opening the door for Hermione.

Once Hermione was inside, the door slammed shut loudly causing her to jump. “Was that really necessary?” she snapped. She could just make out the sound of laughing coming from outside the door. The room was cold and dark. The only light was a subtle glow of the moonlight through a window into the lake on the opposite side of the room.

After lighting the room, she started a fire in the fireplace hoping it would get warm soon. She looked over her surroundings. A black couch and two black chairs were placed around the fireplace on the right side of the room. There was an open kitchen no bigger than you’d see in an apartment against the back wall. The left side of the room was lined with bookshelves and a desk cluttered with books and parchment sat facing the seating area. A door in the left corner of the room caught her attention. Figuring it must be the bedroom, she busied herself with packing up the kitchen. She was not feeling braving enough to go through that door yet.

It did not surprise her that there wasn’t a scrap of food in the kitchen. A few glasses and mugs sat in the cabinet with several boxes of tea as well as coffee. No creamer of any kind in sight. Explains the stains on his teeth, she thought. Aside from that, everything else was empty. Deciding to check under the sink, Hermione knelt down and opened the cabinet. “Well, well, well, what have we here, Professor?” Hermione smiled to herself as she reached in and pulled out a bottle of red wine. 

Only a moment was spent debating whether or not drinking a dead man’s wine was some sort of heinous crime. Hermione magically opened the bottle and took a few swallows not bothering to dirty a glass. “You can do this,” she told herself. She walked back over to the desk, bottle of wine in hand, and looked down that the parchment on it. It looked like essays of some sort. She decided to start with packing the books, which proved to take far longer than she thought, as she couldn’t help but stop to look through several of them. 

Half a bottle of wine later, she lost interest in what she was doing. Yawning, the door at the corner of the room caught her eye again. “Now or never,” Hermione whispered to herself drunk on Professor Snape’s wine. Yep that’s the best way to break into the man’s bedroom; drunk. She giggled to herself as she walked to the door. Lighting the room, she suddenly had a surreal feeling. The room was simple, a large four poster bed with dark green and black bedding, a large wardrobe, a chair, and a door leading into a bathroom. 

She stared in somber silence at the neatly hanging clothes; seven identical teaching robes. She quickly shut the wardrobe as the urge to touch them overwhelmed her. Conjuring a box, Hermione walked into the bathroom. Going through the medicine cabinet wasn’t something she wanted to do, but it seemed a better option than being stuck staring at his clothes. She packed up its contents trying not to pay too much attention to any of it. Burn paste, sleeping drought, pain potion, bruise salve; all things one would expect to see, especially in a potion master’s cabinet. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever, except the half used bottle of shampoo, of course. 

Yes, she was definitely going to tell Harry and Ron that he did, in fact, wash his hair. Hermione rolled her eyes at their childishness. They had always been so ridiculous when it came to professor Snape. Hermione was the last person who should be making judgments about someone else's hair. She always stood by her opinion that he was judge too harshly by his appearance. His demeanor, however, was harder to defend, at the time anyhow. 

Exhausted, Hermione came out of the bathroom and looked longingly at the bed. She walked up to it in a daze and ran her hand over the soft fabric not thinking about what she was doing. Tears started to well up in her eyes unexpectedly, and she sat down and buried her head in her hands. She summoned the bottle of wine and climbed up onto the middle of the bed crossing her legs under her. Comfortable, she noted as the tension in her body started to dissolve. 

Once deciding no one would even know if she didn’t sleep in one of the rooms the house elves had made up, she summoned her purse. Though illegal, Hermione never removed the extension charm from it. She didn’t care; it was her security blanket. She pulled out her pajamas, which were definitely not meant for the cold of the dungeons. She quickly changed into her tank top and sleep shorts and pulled the covers over her legs. Hermione reached into her purse looking for a brush, but felt soft velvet material she wasn’t expecting. “What is this?” she said pulling out a small black pouch with gold ribbon. 

Immediately, she smiled and dumped the pieces of the broken time turner onto the bed. There were three pieces: the chain, which was not really essential, the outer spheres, and the inner hour glass. After careful inspection, Hermione decided that the pins holding everything in place were missing. She carefully cast a welding charm on each of the joints and reattached the chain. It obviously was not going to work, as it no longer swirled, swiveled, or twisted. It was solid, unmoving. Brilliant, she thought to herself sarcastically. Throwing the chain around her neck, she flopped back onto the bed. Snape’s bed. She had no idea why, but something about that comforted her. She felt safe tucked away down under the castle where the memory of him still remained fresh in the veins of the walls.


	4. The Midnight Intruder

Hermione stirred and realized she must have fallen asleep. The candles lighting the room had gone out, and the chill in the room was potent enough to seep into her bones. The creaking of the bedroom door made her freeze in panic. When the door clicked shut, she couldn’t see anything. She definitely heard the rustling of fabric, and quietly but uselessly felt around for her wand. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She could easily be overpowered without her it. She couldn't imagine who would brake into Snape's room or why, for that matter. The footsteps drew nearer, and she held her breath.

A hand came down on her stomach with great pressure, almost as if it wasn’t expecting anyone to be there. She screamed and swung wildly making contact with something solid. She could only hear mumbling through her screaming. Whoever it was that was attacking her didn’t seem to have their wand either. Arms flailed, legs kicked. There was shouting and screaming. Suddenly the weight of a body was on her, pressing her down into the mattress. She struggled to get free, but her arms were pinned above her head. Her attacker was obviously a man, and since she had struggled her way out from under the blankets, she could tell that he wasn’t completely clothed. 

No, she wouldn’t be raped without one hell of a fight. Kneeing the man in the groin as hard as she could, Hermione scrambled away as the man doubled over in pain. She was almost at the door when she was yanked roughly backwards by the arm. Falling to the floor, she knew she was done for. The man was on her once again. This time he had one of her wrists pinned under his knee, causing excruciating pain, and the other was being held down by one of his hands. His free hand came up to her throat and gripped her firmly. The man growled like a rabid beast, and tightened his grip until she could hardly breathe. 

When she thought she was about to black out, the room was suddenly illuminated. Hermione was staring up into the furious black eyes of one half dressed and bloody nosed Severus Snape. She watched a look of shock play across his face. Hermione thought she must have been knocked unconscious or was hallucinating. Perhaps she had passed out and didn't realize it. 

“Miss Granger?” Professor Snape asked trying to make sense of what was going on while relaxing his hand on her throat. Hermione sucked in lungfuls of air as a bead of blood rolled down over his lips and dropped onto her collar bone. The sound of the drip seemed to echo in her mind, and the warmth of it nearly gave her mind a jolt.

“Severus,” Dumbledore’s voice sounded from the door way, “What’s going on here? The house elves told me there was shouting coming- is that…Miss Granger?” He looked back and forth between the two of them. 

“No, no, no, no,” Hermione was shaking her head. “Can’t be. Trickery, No, no, no.” She began sobbing in between protests.

“Severus?” Dumbledore asked more sternly.

Professor Snape looked back down at the student he had pinned to the ground, “Headmaster, I assure you this is not at all what it looks like.” Professor Snape released the hand from her throat.

Hermione continued to mumble words of denial to herself and shake her head.

“Miss Granger, what the hell were you doing in my bed?!” Snape spat angrily now. 

“Dead. Dead. Why is this happening? I’ve lost my mind. Noooo,” she cried. “Dead! It’s a cruel joke. Leave me alone,” she cried as she started thrashing again, but Professor Snape tightened his hold.

“Miss Granger seems to be suffering some sort of psychological stress. Perhaps it has something to do with that,” said Dumbledore as he pointed to the scar on her arm. Professor Snape looked at the arm in question and then eyed her suspiciously. “Miss Granger, were you attacked?” he asked. Hermione only continued to cry as Dumbledore summed a glass phial. “Here. This should help,” he said uncorking it and handing it to Professor Snape.

Professor Snape brought the phial to her mouth, but she continued to shake her head. “Drink it,” he demanded. When she didn’t respond, he let her arm go to grab her by the chin, “Miss Granger.” 

Hermione used her now free hand to try to push him off of her. With her hand flat on his stomach, she shoved as hard as she could. He seemed completely unfazed by it. “No, please,” she begged shutting her eyes tight. 

“Look at me!” he snapped. Getting nowhere he tried again more softly, “Look at me. Please,” he asked.

Hermione's eyes snapped open to his at the eerily familiar words he'd just spoken to her, and she could feel his grip on her face loosen. Her eyes slowly slid down his face to his nearly heaving wiry chest which had a light dusting of hair that trailed down to his naval. She looked up into the black eyes of a man she knew to be dead and conceded defeat. She had slipped into madness; there was no other explanation. When a phial was held up to her lips, she opened her mouth. 

“Good, good,” Snape said. “If I let you go, are you going to attack me again?”

Hermione looked over to Dumbledore and then back to Snape before shaking her head no. She watched Dumbledore hand Snape a handkerchief, which he took and pressed under his nose after releasing her. Hermione stayed frozen on the floor watching as he abandoned straddling her to sit on the floor leaning against the foot of his bed. Seeing him in such a situation, bloody and shirtless with his hair messy from their scuffle, she couldn’t help but stare. 

“Now that we’ve all calmed down,” Dumbledore began as he took a seat in the chair by the fireplace.

Professor Snape seemed to notice Hermione’s gaze as he gave her a disapproving look and wandlessly summoned a shirt and bathrobe. The bathrobe was thrown at her face rather rudely. Upon untangling herself, she glared at him as he pulled the white undershirt over his head. She wrapped the robe around herself while Dumbledore continued as if he hadn’t seen the exchange.

“-shouldn’t be too hard to sort out,” Dumbledore stated optimistically. “Now, where shall we start?”

Snape immediately jumped in, “Why don’t we start with how you got into my room, why you were in my bed, and who did that to you?” He looked at the girl expectantly pointing to her scarred arm.

Hermione huffed indignantly. He may have been a figment of her imagination, but he was still as rude as ever. “Okay. I got into your room by asking Nyala. Simple as that. I was in your bed because I drank too much of your wine. As for my arm, that’s none of your damn business.” She had never seen him look more appalled. Before he could start on a lecture, she went on, “Seeing as how we are demanding answers,” she turned to Dumbledore, “Did you even once stop to consider how it would affect him,” she pointed to Snape, “when you asked him to kill you?” Dumbledore’s expression turned serious, and Snape seemed to lose what little color he had in his cheeks. Hermione was practically shouting now, “Oh, I understand perfectly well why it was a brilliant strategic move, Professor, but you should be ashamed of yourself. We were all nothing more than pawns to you. There is never only one way to do something, and had you given up just a little bit of control, someone else would have been able to contribute a more reasonable solution. Winning this war was never going to undo the damage done by Grindwald and yourself as power hungry young wizards. This wasn’t your war to fight. It was ours. Our lives were on the line. You’ve lived yours; your sacrifice was nothing compared to his!”

Both men were silent as Hermione’s breathing returned to normal. Dumbledore was looking at her curiously, and she realized he was looking at the time turner she was wearing around her neck. 

“That’s mine?” he asked suspiciously pointing to it. 

Hermione grabbed it protectively and nodded, “Was. You gave it to me.” 

“I see,” he said. “It was broken, was it not?”

“Well, it still is. I’ve just welded it back together. It’s not functioning,” she responded still clutching it to her chest.

Dumbledore looked over to Professor Snape who was looking wary. “Tell me, Miss Granger, what is the date today?”

She looked between them and stated, “That’s not possible. It’s broken. Not only that, I didn’t attempt to use it,” she reasoned. “Besides, they only go back hours. A day at most.”

“Miss Granger,” Snape finally spoke, “What.Day.Is.It?”

“June 29, 1998,” she said hesitantly. 

“Fantastic!” exclaimed Snape. “This is your fault,” he said shaking his finger at Dumbledore. “This is what you get when you give a child a time turner.” The older man looked at Snape without any remorse. “Forgive me Headmaster. Allow me to amend my statement. This is what you get when you give a child a malfunctioning time turner,” Snape spat. 

“I’m not a child,” she objected.

“There is no sense in scolding me for something I haven’t yet done,” Dumbledore defended himself. Turning his attention back to Hermione, he said, “I trust you still understand how dangerous it is to alter the future, Miss Granger.” Once she nodded, he continued, “It seems that somehow you have traveled back in time. It is March 20, 1997.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide, and she covered her mouth with her hands, “Oh Gods! This is a... disaster!”

“What a keen observation,” Snape snapped. “Again, why were you in my room? Drinking my wine? And in my bed?” 

“Because I-,” Hermione broke off and looked from Snape to Dumbledore. She couldn’t tell them. She couldn’t tell them she was sent to clean out Snape’s rooms because he was dead. She looked apologetically to Dumbledore trying not to panic.

Dumbledore turned to Professor Snape and gave him a disapproving look. “Severus?” he demanded sternly.

Confused, Professor Snape glanced back and forth between the Headmaster and his student. Suddenly looking scandalized he protested, “This is absurd. Surely you can’t think I would have any inappropriate relations with a-a child. I would never-“ Snape huffed. He looked back at Hermione briefly before going on. “Now, look who’s scolding who for something he hasn’t done yet!” Snape threw his hands in the air. 

“I’m not a child!” Blushing scarlet, Hermione interjected again but cringed when Professor Snape snarled at her.

“That is NOT helpful, Miss Granger, and you most certainly are a child,” he hissed at her.

“Enough,” Dumbledore said. “Miss Granger, I assume it’s for the best if we do not discuss this further.” When she nodded, he continued, “You are not to discuss anything of the future with anyone. And you,” he spoke to Professor Snape, “MUST refrain from poking around her mind. Do you understand?”

“I assure you, I have absolutely no desire to listen to an adolescent girl debate which color to use on her fingernails,” Snape said snidely glaring at Hermione.

Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

“For now, you’ll have to stay here. We cannot afford to risk you being seen. I’ll see what I can do about fixing the time turner,” Dumbledore explained reaching out to Hermione, who hesitantly gave him the time turner.

“So, when you say she’ll have to remain here, you mean…in the castle?” Snape questioned. When Dumbledore didn’t answer immediately, he shook his head. “No. NO. Absolutely not. That is not an option.” Snape stood abruptly and began pacing. “You, just moments ago, accused me of- inappropriate conduct with a student, and now you’re telling me I have to share my room with said student?” His fury was evident. “Have you lost your mind completely?”


	5. Sleeping Arrangements

Dumbledore looked resigned. “Severus, forgive me. You have to admit the circumstances are quite unusual," he shrugged turning his palms up. "Miss Granger, I would like to have a word,” he said walking toward the door. “Give us a moment please,” he said to Professor Snape.

Feeling dazed, Hermione followed Dumbledore out of Snape’s room and over to the couch near the fire. Sitting down, she fidgeted with the hem of the bathrobe waiting for him to speak. The silence drew out into a palpable discomfort.

“I’d like to hear your thoughts, Miss Granger. I trust you know how dire the consequences can be for any decision we come to,” he said solemnly. "At the moment, I don't know how or if we can send you back." 

She rubbed her face and stared into the fire before speaking. “I think we have to do whatever we can to not change the timeline anymore than it already has,” she stated sadly. “There can’t be two of me walking around the school. Leaving is probably not a great idea either. What if I’m seen? What if I’m captured by Death Eaters?” She started to panic at the thought. Voldemort would know everything. They wouldn’t stand a chance. “It’s too risky to stay anywhere else. I'm a liability!”

“Yes, you are," he agreed definitively. "The come and go room, perhaps,” he offered. 

“NO,” she nearly shouted. “Sorry, I just-“ She shook her head. She couldn't even tell him why. This situation was becoming more and more complicated by the second. 

“I can’t hide you up in the tower with me, I'm afraid. There's far too much traffic; students, teachers, ministry officials,” he said sounding resentful. “Would you feel safe here with Professor Snape?” he asked gently. 

No, Hermione thought, he’s likely to strangle her. Realizing he was asking her if he should be worried about propriety, she felt her stomach turn. “Yes. I trust him. Although, it’s going to be quite horrible.” She grimaced thinking about how angry he was going to be.

“Very well,” he stated. Dumbledore said, “Excuse me a moment,” as he stood and walked back to Professor Snape’s bedroom. He closed the door behind him. 

Hermione her mumbled voices at first. Then there was definitely shouting, though she wasn’t sure what was being said. She cringed, thinking about how this affected Professor Snape. Her being a nuisance in his private rooms was the last thing he needed. She couldn't help but feel awful about the position she had put him in, regardless of lack of intention of doing so. Dumbledore finally emerged from the room. 

With a wave of his wand, a doorway appeared off to the left side of the room. “A room for you, Miss Granger. I shall return tomorrow evening to discuss this further. For now, we should all try to get some rest.” He headed toward the door after bidding Hermione good evening. 

Once the door clicked shut, Hermione looked back to see a seething Professor Snape standing in his doorway. “I do not want to hear one peep out of you. I am going to go into my room and pretend you are not here. It would be unwise to remind me of your presence.” He grabbed his door handle and hissed, “And don’t touch anything!” With that he slammed his door shut causing Hermione to jump in surprise.

Not wanting to linger, she made her way to the room Dumbledore created for her. It was small and simple, containing a bed somewhat larger than the ones in the dorms, a dresser, and a small bathroom. Hermione folded up Professor Snape's robe and put it on top of the dresser before climbing into bed. She lay awake for a while staring at the ceiling. Hoping that this was all some sort of twisted dream, she closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep, but had a feeling she wasn’t that lucky. 

Hermione woke with a start, and her heart was pounding. She had a nightmare that she had walked out into the Great Hall during dinner, and it somehow led to Voldemort killing Harry. She was still in the room Dumbledore had made for her and was thankful that she hadn’t cost them the war. Not yet anyway. Hermione wanted to cast a tempus charm but groaned at realizing she didn't have her wand. She didn't have anything, save for the clothes on her back. This was already heading toward a disaster of a day. After using the restroom, she threw the dark blue rob on. 

Relieved to find the living space empty, Hermione made herself a cup of tea and sat by the fireplace wishing she could light it. hHer mind wandered to her sixth year. Learning appiration turned out to be a life saver. She snorted into her cup recalling telling Ron and Harry that she would have rather had Professor Snape for Defense and Potions than have to deal with Slughorn. He was a mediocre teacher at best. Gods, how obsessed Harry was with Draco too. And the way it ended- Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by the door on the far side of the room opening.

Professor Snape staggered out of his room rubbing his face and heading into the kitchen. Hermione watched him nervously. With his back to Hermione, he prepared himself a cup of coffee as he rubbed his neck. He was still wearing the white shirt she watched him put on last night. Taking the time to actually look at him, she realized how skinny he was. She’d never realized it as a student. His Robes made him look so formidable. The dark mark on his arm stood out strikingly against his pale skin. Professor Snape turned around with his coffee and took a sip as he walked to the table. Hermione found it oddly funny to see him barefoot. When he finally looked up at her, he seemed startled as he hissed at the coffee which had spilled over his hand. 

“It wasn’t a nightmare,” she said and gave him a small apologetic smile.

“I beg to differ,” he brooded as he sat down at the table and snapped the daily prophet open between them as a clear attempt to block out her presence. 

Hermione sipped her tea and stared at the paper in front of her. “What day of the week is it?”

“Thursday,” he huffed. “I have classes to teach all day. I expect you to stay here, stay out of my room, and keep quiet. I’ll see what I can do about getting you lunch. With any luck, the headmaster will have found a way to send you back from whence you came by the end of the day.”

As soon as Professor Snape left for his first class of the day, Hermione went straight to one of the bookshelves looking for something to read. He hadn’t really expected that she sit around staring at the wall all day. Had he? She picked up Julius Ceasar and curled up on the couch.

Hermione scrambled at the last minute to return the book to its shelf when she realized it was about lunch time. When Professor Snape showed up, he had an apple and a sandwich for her. He’d mumbled something about finding her something else to wear before leaving again. She waited alone in his living quarters for several more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda hate short chapters myself, but this story has to move along at a quick pace. I don't think anyone wants to read about her sitting alone in a room for hours at a time any more that I want to write about it.


	6. Like It Is

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger. I don’t know how this happened; however, I fear, in testing this time turner, we may end up in an even worse situation. There is no telling what will happen if I attempt to fix it and allow you to use it,” Dumbledore explained while sitting next to her on the couch in Professor Snape’s living room later that night.

“She cannot stay here, Headmaster,” Snape pleaded leaning forward in the armchair he was sitting in across from the two of them. He looked as close to a desperate man as Hermione had ever seen him. “What am I to do with a seventeen year old girl?”

Hermione corrected him, “Actually, I’m almost nineteen.”

Dumbledore motioned to her as if she’d just shut down his objection, “You see? You’re overreacting, Severus.”

Professor Snape nearly gaped at him. Nearly. “Am I?” he asked incredulously. “Is it not enough what you’ve already asked of me?” he asked in a hushed tone as though Hermione wouldn’t have been able to hear it. “You’re really going to make me her babysitter as well, should I say two of her?” 

Hermione could almost see the hurt in his eyes, so she looked away unable to stand the thought of it. She felt incredibly awkward, not to mention guilty about the situation they were in.

“You have a better solution, then?” Professor Dumbledore asked. When Professor Snape grimaced and looked away, Dumbledore said, “This is what has to be done, at least for now. It won’t be the worst thing in the world for you to come back to someone who believes in you at the end of the day. Will it?”

Professor Snape remained silent, but his posture indicated is displeasure with Dumbledore’s remark and the situation at hand. 

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore turned to her, “Professor Snape has brought it to my attention that you do not have any personal possessions with you.” Hermione nodded, and he continued, “Max is the house elf assigned to Professor Snape. He will be brining you the items you need shortly. If you need anything while you are here, you can call upon him. He is obligated to keep Severus’ confidence, even including housing you in his rooms. I expect you not to hesitate when asking him for meals and whatnot.” Hermione opened her mouth, but he continued. “There is no other way. Now, do you at least have your wand?”

“No,” Hermione whined. 

“I’ll see to it that you get one,” he reassured her. “For now, I just want you to get settled, as I cannot promise you will be leaving any time soon.”

Hermione frowned, “Yes, Sir.”

Dumbledore departed with little more to say, and Hermione looked to Professor Snape who was wearing a scowl. 

“Unbelievable,” he murmured. “How is it that you Gryffindors seem to make a mess of literally everything?”

Hermione stared at him sitting with his legs crossed and his head propped up by his fist, his index finger resting against his cheek. 

“That is not fair,” she complained offended. “I-”

“Not fair?” he asked, his voice laced with malice as he brought both his hand down into his lap to join the other in making threatening fists. “Need I remind you of all the ‘messes’ you’ve created during your tenure here? And it’s not even over yet. And apparently when it is, you come back for more.”  


Hermione opened her mouth but came up short.  


He continued, “You’ve managed to get yourself trapped in a bathroom with a mountain troll. You had the idiotic idea to circumvent a three headed dog and go down a trap door which ultimately led to the Dark Lord getting his hands within inches of the sorcerer’s stone, which he otherwise would not have. After that, you turned yourself into a cat-thing.” He waived a finger at her, “Don’t think I don’t know about that. Who do you think had to brew the antidote? You then were petrified by a giant snake because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time researching said snake when you should have been focused on your studies.” He held his hand up to halt her protest, “You then chased after an escaped convict, a known murderer, and somehow helped him escape a fate he deserved, while simultaneously allowing another rat, pun intended, to go free. You formed a secret society under the nose of the ministry’s spy, only to be caught, which I had to lie about to get you off the hook. Then you broke out of the school and into the Ministry of Magic, of all places because your best friend is an idiot with a hero complex. And it was all to save that mutt who wasn’t even worth the oxygen he breathed. Who do you think healed that scar on your chest? Hmm?” he shook his head, “It wasn’t madam Pomfrey, Miss Granger. Oh, no. Her expertise is in general healing as it pertains to normal student’s blunders and not curses meant to maim cast by practiced psychopaths,” he sneered. “And that’s just you! Potter’s list of infractions exceeds your own by far!” he stopped when his voice became raised. 

Hermione didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t wrong, but it’s not like she’d done any of that knowing how bad of an idea it was. “I didn’t ask for this either. You know?”

“Just like Potter. Always playing the victim,” he curled his lip as he stood from his seat.

Hermione couldn’t help herself as she said, “Harry isn’t like that, nor am I.”

“He has single handedly instigated every mess you three have made while at this school, and you, being the,” he used air quotes, “ -’brains’ of it all, should have stopped him.”

“I’m sorry-” she said not knowing how to finish that sentence. “I’m sorry,” she settled on the statement without a qualifier. Professor Snape looked at her curiously before shaking his head again and retreating to his room for the evening. 

Hermione remained there looking at the fire until Max appeared with his little hands clutching a pillow case draped over his shoulder. “Miss Granger?” he asked in a deeper voice than she expected.

“Yes,” she answered. “You must be Max! Here,” she said holding her hand out, “Let me take that for you. It was kind of you to gather these things for me.”

“It is my duty, Miss,” he bowed to her. “It is my honor to serve the potions master,” he said bowing again. 

“Yes, well…thank you,” she said with a genuine smile to the little elf. Hermione did not recognize him at all, actually. He seemed to be a bit older than the others, as indicated by the lines around his mouth and eyes, and he wore a dark gray smock rather than a lighter one. He also had a little island of hair on the top of his head. 

Hermione went into her room after Max departed and dumped the contents of the pillow case out onto her bed. She was relieved as could be to find a tooth brush, tooth paste and a few changes of clothes. She made her way to the bathroom to bask in the luxury of her new treasures. Now, if only she had a wand! Soon, she comforted herself.


	7. Snape Charming 101

Hermione was late to rise the next morning, as she’d been up late reading the book she had sneaked into her room the previous day. She came out into the living area to find herself alone. The conversation the night before with Professor Snape left the room in a deafening silence that still lingered. That evening brought about yet more avoidance of her existence, and Hermione had hope that it would pass.

He carried on in the same manner over the weekend and half way through the next week. Professor Snape would wake, make himself coffee, return to his room, and then leave for the day. He wouldn’t return until after dinner, and he barely gave himself enough time to make tea before going to his room for the night.

Hermione felt more alone than ever. The only interaction she had with anyone was with Max when he would bring her meals. Luckily, Max brought her a wand on Sunday. It was nothing special, but it would certainly do. At least she could transfigure her clothes to fit a little better and be able to start a fire.

Hermione was awake just before dawn on Wednesday morning because she’d spent almost the entire night tossing and turning. Deciding it was useless to try to fall back asleep, she got up and brewed a pot of coffee. Feeling her stomach rumble, she called on Max.

The little elf appeared in front of her in the kitchen. “Yes, Miss?” he asked. 

She really hated having to ask any house elf to wait on her, but she’d otherwise starve to death. “I was wondering if you could bring breakfast a bit early.”

“Yes, Miss. What will you be having today?” he asked her.

“Toast with jam will be fine,” she answered.

Max inquired, “And for Master Snape?”

“Oh, um. Whatever he usually eats I suppose,” Hermione replied.

Max gave a bow and was back within ten minutes carrying breakfast. After he handed the two plates to her, he disapparated. Hermione set her plate on the table and thought it was best to put his food on the counter by the coffee, lest he assume she was implying he eat with her. Merlin forbid! The plate had two eggs over easy and buttered toast, and Hermione wondered if he would even eat it. She didn’t want to give Professor Snape’s breakfast any more thought, so she tucked into her toast as she looked over yesterday’s Daily Prophet. 

Within minutes, Professor Snape came out of his bedroom and headed for the kitchen. Curious, Hermione watched him as he stopped and stared at the pot of coffee. She had to roll her eyes at him for inspecting both the coffee and the plate of food as if expecting it to be poisoned. He looked over his shoulder at her while she continued to eat at the table. Grabbing his plate and mug, he grumbled, “Thank you,” before returning to his room.

While relieved, she had to try not to laugh at him. Apparently, breakfast and coffee was all it took to get him to speak to her again. Well, that and a week of the silent treatment. It still felt like quite a feat. Maybe the rest of the week wouldn’t be so bad.

Hermione rolled the dice and took a chance with having coffee and breakfast ready Thursday and Friday. She received the same mumbled thank you each time, but on Friday, he had returned to his quarters for almost an hour before leaving for dinner. He sat at the table reading the paper while she in her room with the door opened. He hadn’t said a word to her, but it was still something. 

Saturday morning she was shocked when he didn’t rush out the way he had the first weekend. Mid morning he left for a few hours and returned before lunchtime with a stack of parchments. He appeared to be grading them at the table. 

“What?” he snapped apparently having noticed her watching him.

“Nothing, I was just thinking. I don’t have anything else to do, so maybe I could help you with those,” she answered hesitantly. 

He looked at her suspiciously for several moments before taking a stack and setting it across the table from himself. “Just mark for corrections. I’ll still have to look them over. 

Hermione sat and conjured a quill as she picked up the first essay to correct. They worked in companionable silence for the first time since she’d awoken there in his rooms. After about an hour she asked, “Have you eaten lunch?" When he shook his head, she stated, “I can call for it if you’re hungry. I haven’t eaten yet either.” 

Professor Snape reluctantly agreed, and they ate quietly while still reading essays. Hermione’s mind wandered to the man sitting across from her. He would be sitting quietly by himself if she weren’t here. She had felt so deprived of human contact over the last week, that she nearly thought she was going mad. He lived that way though. Didn’t he? Down here in the dungeons alone. She was suddenly grateful for all the years she had spend in the Gryffindor dorms even if the chatter did occasionally get on her nerves. Hermione wondered if he felt as lonely as she assumed his life to be.

“I have to go into Hogsmeade tomorrow. If there is something you need, I’d rather get it while I’m already out,” he said seemingly into the room and not to her.

Perplexed by his sudden shift in demeanor, she responded, “I think I have everything I need. I haven't had a sugar quill in months though,” He made a sour face but didn’t say anything in response.

Hermione had just finished brewing a pot of tea when he returned from Hogsmeade Sunday afternoon. Professor Snape had set a brown sack down on the table before removed his outer robes, which looked somewhat wet.

“Is it snowing?” She asked but then suddenly worried that she may spook him if she spoke directly to him or even looked him in the eye.

“Raining,” he answered shaking his head. He took the cup of tea she offered him and gestured toward the bag.” I didn’t know there were so many kinds of those things,” he admitted. “You neglected to tell me which ones to get.” 

Hermione was shocked that he was being so talkative and that he had brought her candy. She had just assumed he wouldn't. “Oh, sorry. I usually get the original vanilla ones.”

He nodded and took a sip of his tea as he sat down at the table. “Well I just grabbed a few at random, so I doubt I got that particular kind.” He then pulled the three quills out of the brown bag and read them off quietly, “Blueberry, peppermint, and ginger. No vanilla. Looks like you’ll have to suffer the adventure of a new flavor or two.” 

She laughed as she sat at the table with her tea, “I suppose I am a bit boring in my candy selection. Thank you for getting them.” 

Professor Snape opened the paper and began to read without responding to her.


	8. Preliminary Inquiry

Monday afternoon came around quickly, and Professor Snape made an unusual appearance at lunchtime. “I have quite a bit of brewing to do for the infirmary, so you’ll have to find a way to keep yourself busy this week,” he said as he rummaged through is desk. 

Hermione chewed on her lip nervously before she braved asking, “Would you like some help brewing, Sir?”

He gave her an incredulous look and replied, “You cannot just go waltzing through the castle. Have you forgotten that you don’t belong here, and that there are now two of you?”

“I meant here. I mean…maybe I could brew here,” she explained as she waved a hand at the room. “That way you it won’t take up your entire week.”

After he gave her a long calculation look, he nodded. “Make a list of the ingredients needed for dreamless sleep, healing paste, burn cream, and pepperup potion. Give it to Max and have him bring them here along with the equipment. I’ll return after dinner. Do not start without me. I will not have you blowing up my living quarters. Is that clear, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, Sir,” Hermione agreed happily. She was looking forward to having something to do, and although she was reluctant to admit it, she was looking forward to having his company as well.

Later that evening, Hermione was scraping way at a slug for the burn cream, and she could practically hear Professor Snape cringe. She was doing the best she could. It had always been something she struggled to do neatly.

“You are butchering that slug, Miss Granger,” he commented. “Nearly half of it will be wasted if you keep on like that.”

“I’m not sure how else to do it, Sir,” she admitted. Hating feeling incompetent, she didn’t look up at him. 

He answered simply, “Cut it like you were filleting a fish.”

Hermione frowned down at the slug and said, “I don’t know what that means exactly. I’ve never had to fillet a fish before.” She had gone fishing a few times with her father when she was younger, but they had always thrown them back. 

With an exaggerated sigh, Professor Snape stepped away from his cauldron and walked around behind her. Hermione froze as he took both of her hands in his. His spicy aroma washed over her, and she wasn’t expecting it. He had her grab one end of the slug and pin it to the workbench with her left hand, while he held her right hand around the blade. He angled the knife at a forty-five degree angle with the table and rocked it back and forth along the length of the slug as if sawing the skin off. 

“See,” he said flipping it over while leaning over her shoulder. “No waste,” he explained. 

Hermione, however, was focused on the feeling of having Professor Snape’s body and hands touching her. His hair had brushed her cheek when he spoke, and she wasn’t sure if he realized how it would come across to her. She could only hum in response but was able to breathe again once he returned to his own cauldron. It took her nearly an hour to get comfortable again. During which time, she couldn’t help but think of how she seen him last before getting stuck in the past. 

It was a horrible memory for her, and she’d had many nightmares about it since that night. The train of thought eventually led her to asking about Nagini. “Professor,” she said not looking up from her work. “Can I ask you something about Mr. Weasley?”

“All I really know of the boy is that he is a dimwitted nuisance, Miss Granger,” he said adding something to his slowly bubbling potion.

“No, Sir. I mean Arthur Weasley,” she clarified trying to ignore the jab he’d just thrown at Ron.

He continued to stir his potion and asked, “What of him?”

Hermione didn’t want him to shut down, so she had to be careful how she proceeded. “I was just wondering how he survived Nagini’s bite. I mean… How did the healers stabilize him?” she asked trying to convey lightness in her voice.

He looked at her sharply before replying, “He nearly didn’t survive. He was lucky to receive the antivenin and blood replenisher in time. I’m surprised his son never told you. Though, I suppose he may not have wanted his children to know just how close he was to death.”

She pressed on, “Did it have to be a specific antivenin, or was a general sufficient?” She continued focusing on her potion to appear only vaguely interested in their conversation. 

“The standard would be enough. If it weren’t Mr. Weasley would have died as the hospital does not have antivenin brewed with Nagini’s venom. Why do you ask?” he questioned still looking at her.

“Oh. No reason really. I was just curious,” she told him. Hermione knew she was lucky he had indulged her curiosity and knew better than to ask any more questions for now.

“Well, I think that’s enough for today.” Professor Snape said casting a stasis on both of their cauldrons. He cleaned up his work area swiftly before retiring for the evening, while leaving Hermione to pondering the information he’d just given her.

That night Hermione fell asleep on the couch accidentally while reading the newest transfiguration journal. She dreamed that she was hiking in the woods in the middle of winter, and she strayed off the path to help a wounded bird. Once she reached the bird, however, it hopped up and flew away. She walked back to where she came from, but the trail had disappeared. She wandered through the woods alone for a very long time. The sun was setting and the cold was creeping into her bones. Hermione sat huddled up against the base of giant tree shivering. Suddenly something changed and the weather warmed up several degrees. Still dark out, she couldn’t see where anything out in the brush ahead of her, but the continued rustling was making her start to panic. Something jumped out at her.

Hermione gasped as she woke in the living room. She picked the journal up off of the floor next to the couch where it had landed and wondered when she’d gotten up to get a blanket. She mused that Max had possible found her laying here with her teeth chattering but knew it was most likely Professor Snape. She could only hope he wouldn’t be mad at her for falling asleep on his couch. Wouldn’t he have woken her up if he had been angry though?

Thinking back on how he had stood with his arms around her earlier that evening, Hermione blushed. Climbing into her bed, she told herself that had he been anyone else, she would have thought he was flirting with her. He couldn’t be though. She was sure of it. What would she do if he did flirt with her? She would be flattered obviously, but…With that thought, she pulled her comforter up over her and rolled onto her side. She really needed to get some sleep as she was obviously showing signs of sleep deprivation.


	9. Once A Thief

“Max?” Hermione called as soon as Professor Snape left for classes Monday morning.

Pop! “Miss is calling Max again? Was there something wrong with breakfast?” he asked sounding concerned.

“No. It was perfect. I was just wondering if you could get me a potion because I’m not able to go to get it myself,” she told him.

“What potion is Miss needing?” Max asked her.

She only just now realized he may want to know why. “Blood replenishing potion. My period and all,” she shrugged.

“Oh! Alright! Alright! Please say no more, Miss. Max will bring Miss potion,” he nodded.

Hermione sat on her bed and stared at the phial of blood replenisher all afternoon. She knew she ought to dismiss the silly fantasy she’d been having, but she couldn’t shake it. It wasn’t going to work anyway. She need the antivenin as well, and then what?  


At a quarter to four Hermione hid the phial in her dresser drawer. In all her musing she realized how it was possible to change that horrible day. She really had to think things over before acting, but she needed to get her hands on some antivenin as soon as possible. Once she had that, she could carefully plan how to alter just that one thing in the future. Unfortunately, there was only one way she would be able to get it.

Hermione didn’t have the nerve to broach the subject for three more days. Professor Snape had returned from classes and was in a rather good mood compared to normal. He had told her about the article in the latest potions journal he’d read that afternoon. They discussed the impending extinction of blowflies and the impact it would have on the future of potion making. Hermione decided she rather liked talking to him when he wasn’t sneering at or insulting her. He certainly was a hard man to read, but she swore she saw amusement in his eyes when she listed numerous potions which would have to be altered or reinvented altogether. 

While brewing that evening, Hermione’s concentration slipped as she thought of a way to ask him for the antivenin. She frowned into her cauldron which was way too runny to be correct. “Sir?” she asked. “Would you mind taking a look at this? I’m not sure what I did, but it obviously isn’t right.”

Professor Snape came around her and placed his hand on the small of her back as he leaned forward and peered into her cauldron. Covering her hand on the stirring rod, he swished it through the liquid in an back and forth motion. “What did you do to it?” he asked sounding a little annoyed.

“I don’t know, Sir,” Hermione breathed. She was starting to flush from the contact and hoped he wouldn’t notice. She had no such luck, though.

He turned to her about to say something, and then he removed both of his hands from her before he cleared his throat and walked back to his own work station. “You’ll just have to restart it,” he state gruffly. 

She thought she might die from embarrassment in that moment, but she ultimately convinced herself that he should be the one who ought to be embarrassed. He was the one touching her, after all. Besides, he probably had assumed that she was just uncomfortable and not aroused. Not that she was aroused. That would be absurd. Not to mention inappropriate. 

Hermione waited until he was cleaning his workstation to ask him, “So what exactly is in antivenin?” 

“Essence of comfrey, antimony, mastick, hemlock, and a few other ingredients. Why?” he asked he while he was brewing tea in the kitchen.

“I was just wondering,” she said. “Does Madam Pomfrey keep any on hand?”

Professor Snape stopped pouring tea into his mug and grabbed the edge of the counter with his hands, his back facing away from her.

“No,” he said sternly. “I don’t need to remind you how disastrous it is to interfere with fate. Do I, Miss Granger?”

He was still facing away from her when she answered solemnly, “No, Sir.”

Picking up the tea pot to finish pouring himself a cup, he added, “I suggest you put the thought out of your mind.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied sadly. Hermione began to clean her workbench as Professor Snape disappeared into his room.

Moments later, he stormed back out into the living room. “It was you,” he accused. “I knew I was missing a potion from my stores today. I don’t know how you got it, but you’re going to give it back right now,” he demanded angrily. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Hermione exclaimed as he approached her. He had come so close, she had to back up into the bench to avoid being run over. 

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. You’ve already made up your mind to go messing with things, haven't you? I’m not going to let you. Where is the blood replenishing potion, Miss Granger?” he asked with his nostrils flaring. 

When Hermione didn’t respond he stalked away from her, but to her horror, he was not going back to his room. He was heading for hers. Panicking, Hermione ran after him. Professor Snape summoned the blood replenisher, but Hermione was quick to get between the two of them, catching it mid air. What she did not count on was Professor Snape grabbing her. 

She shrieked in surprise and placed her foot behind his in an attempt to trip him and get free, but they both tumbled to the floor. He landed on top of her and tried to pry her fingers open, which she was holding out above her head. His weight was crushing her, but she wasn’t about to give up. After she clipped him in the jaw with her elbow, he seemed aghast.

Hermione was suddenly terrified when his hands retreated from hers. She let out a horrible screech as his fingers worked almost painfully at her ribs. Struck with a sudden fit of laughter, Hermione brought her arms down instinctively to cover her ticklish flesh but wasn’t able to block much with him laying on her the way he was. “Okay,” she pleaded unable to stand it any longer without wetting herself. “Okay!” she cried dropping the phial to the ground. 

Professor Snape’s fingers finally relented but lingered on her torso, and she lay under him flush from her uncontrollable laughter. His eyes seemed to dance with mirth and Hermione’s wandered to his parted lips. They were suddenly kissing. His lips moved with hers effortlessly. It was the opposite of what she may have expected of him had she spent any time thinking about it before. He had always seemed to carry himself in such a rigid manner, that it shocked her that he would be so tender when kissing someone. 

Only a few short moments later, he pulled away, scrambling to his feet while clutching the phial in his hand. He looked down at her briefly with a puzzled expression before leaving the room.


	10. Slytherin's Mistress

The next several days were spent much like the first week in his living quarters. Professor Snape avoided her whenever he could, and Hermione thought it was ridiculous. She knew he was feeling awkward about what had happened between them, but it’s not like she wanted to talk about it either. Headmaster Dumbledore stopped by to check on her once, but she found she didn’t have much to say to him. By the first of May Hermione was feeling like she was going mad. She couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Professor Snape,” she hurriedly said as he was trying to make his way to his room at the end of the evening. “I’m going for a walk.” That ought to get his attention, she thought.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Excuse me?” he asked as he spun around to face her.

“I’m going stir crazy here, and I need to get out of these rooms for a little while,” she explained.

“You won’t be going anywhere, and you know perfectly well why,” he snapped.

Hermione huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “I know that, but a disillusionment charm should be good enough. I just need some fresh air.” 

He shook his head, “What you need is to stay here and out of sight. I’m not daft, Miss Granger. I know you’re up to something, and I’m not going to allow you to go on one of your moronic Gryffindor missions to save one while sacrificing the rest of us.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Then go with me. I just want to get out of these rooms for an hour,” she pleaded.

“No. Now go to bed,” he said sternly. 

Determined not to let it go, Hermione asked him to take her out every night for the rest of the week. Each time, he seemed more and more frustrated. She wasn’t sure if he was about to give in or murder her, but she had spent too many hours crying lately because she had no one to talk to and nothing to do. 

Friday when Professor Snape came back at nearly eleven at night, he came in the door and said, “Put your shoes on,” as he walked through to his bedroom.

Hermione didn’t hesitate. She flew into her room and grabbed the one pair of sneaker Max could find in the lost and found in her size. Standing in the living room, Hermione waited as patiently as she could for him to return. “Where are we going?” she asked excitedly as he came into the living room putting on his outer robes. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” he asked sounding annoyed.

“Right!” she replied and scurried off to grab a sweater. Hermione practically skidded into him as she rushed back out to where he stood waiting for her. Professor Snape gave her a disapproving glare before casting a disillusionment charm on her and warned, “You will stay with me, and you will not draw attention to yourself. If you behave, I will consider taking you to the astronomy tower after I’ve finished my rounds. Is that clear?”

Excitedly, she answered, “Yes, Sir.”

She followed closely behind him as he swept out of his quarters and into the spiral pathway leading out of his rooms. The woman in the portrait had made a comment about how rude it was to leave without saying goodbye, but she had been ignored by the both of them. Hermione did her best to keep up with him and be quiet as they swept through the castle looking for students out of their common rooms. They had only caught a second year Gryffindor trying to sneak into the kitchen, but Professor Snape seemed to be pleased. They had always thought he enjoyed catching them. Well, maybe he still did, but he obviously preferred them to not break the rules at all. 

She nearly had to run to keep up with him as he took the stairs two at a time until he reached the deck of the astronomy tower. Clutching her side, she didn’t see him move to the edge to look out over the quiet grounds. 

Once she’d caught her breath, she moved to stand beside him and take in the fresh air and lush landscape that had flourished from Scotland’s rainy season. “The woman in the portrait, the one guarding your chambers,” Hermione began.

“Nyala? What about her?” he asked quietly still looking over the forbidden forest.

“Well, I met her the night I…ended up here. She’s sort of odd isn’t she?” she asked unsure of how he would respond.

He furrowed his brow, “In what way?”

Surprised he seemed unaware, she elaborated, “Well, she just seems awfully gloomy. Don’t you think? She doesn’t seem familiar. Should I know who she is?”

“I suppose that is something a Gryffindor wouldn’t know,” he mused aloud. “Nyala was the great grandmother of Merlin. She was a widow by the age of twenty-three.” 

“Oh. I had no idea. I don’t recall ever reading anything about her,” she said regretfully.

“She was rumored to be the Mistress of Salazar Slytherin. Her brother found her dead from apparently drinking a bottle of poison after Slytherin announced his engagement to Westina Whitley of Belfast. Her portrait was removed from slytherin's rooms after he passed away,” he said softly.

“That’s awful,” Hermione responded. “No wonder she’s so morose.” He suddenly looked sad and she couldn’t help but reach out to him, placing her hand on his while it gripped the railing. While he didn’t jerk it away, he looked down at his hand, unable to see hers, and frowned. 

“Will you please consider letting me have that potion back?” she asked, though not very hopefully.

Professor Snape didn’t respond to her. After a minute, he spoke, “We should go back. Has your desired to flea my dungeons waned?” 

“Yes. Thank you,” she answered removing her hand and turning to walk with him from the tower. Waves of sadness knocked into her on their long way back down through the castle. She had considered brewing the potions herself, but there was no possible way of doing it without him noticing. She could only hope that he would come around, just like he had with letting her out for a bit. Hermione felt like crying as they approached Nyala’s portrait. The thought of the two of them down here, heartbroken, and alone made her heart ache. 

“One may smile, and smile, and still be a villain,” she warned when Professor Snape stopped in front of her. 

Her looked to be contemplating something but then said, “Listen to many, speak to a few.”

“Yes!” she exclaimed gleefully. “Hamlet was always my favorite.” Nyala leaned forward giving Professor Snape and, unbeknownst to her, Hermione quite a view of her ample cleavage. “If only I were still alive…” she said seductively leering at him.

“And a few hundred years younger,” he reminded her. “Amorphophallus titanum.” 

Nyala allowed them entry and Hermione couldn’t help herself, “Your password. What does it mean?”

“Hmm? Oh it’s an Indonesian plant also known as the corpse flower. It smells horrible, but it’s twice as potent as lavender in potion making. We don’t use it here in Europe because it cost about ten times as much to import thus defeating the purpose of using it altogether.”


	11. Caution

Hermione spent Saturday and Sunday afternoon helping Professor Snape grade essays and quizzes from the previous week’s potions classes. She couldn’t believe how bad some of them were. One second year’s quiz made her snort, which caused him look to up at her.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh. Nothing. It’s just, well, listen to this: ‘What is the main purpose of a hair-raising potion?’ Johnny answered, ‘to make people think you’ve been electrocuted.’ Honestly, how hard is it to look at the text book once in a while?” she asked.

“Oh that’s nothing. I once had a student try to explain polyjuice potion as a potion which can turn a liquid into many different kinds of juices,” he said.

“Wow. That’s pretty bad,” she agreed.

“Oh, and one time, the question was, ‘petroleum jelly is best used when making blank.’ The answer I got was ‘love to my hand’,” he said shaking his head. "I gave him two weeks of detention for that."

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh. After a moment, she asked, “What was the worst potion’s accident you’ve seen?” 

Professor Snape looked at her and hesitated before answering, “You know that door on the second floor around the corner from the History of Magic classroom?”

“Um..yeah, I think so. The one with the black and yellow tape wrapped all around it?” she asked.

“That would be the one. It was a storage room at one time. It was permanently damaged when a first year added the lionfish spines to a healing potion and then let it stew for too long. The whole thing boiled over. It had become so corrosive that it ate right through the floor. They were unable to repair it because the acid lingered and burned through their repair materials three times. I assume it’s settled by now, of course. No one has bothered to try and fix it though,” he explained.

“Why was a first year in a storage room brewing a healing potion? Why not just go to the infirmary?” she asked. 

“It was the end of the school year, and there’s no infirmary at home to go to when someone's used you as punching bag,” he said with a shrug not looking up from the quiz he was marking.

Hermione frowned. “Oh,” she said realizing. “That’s awful.”

“That’s life,” he replied flatly.

“Well, it shouldn’t be!” she nearly shouted. 

He did look up at her then. “But that doesn’t make it no so, Miss Granger.”

Hemione asked, “So what happened to the boy? Was he removed from his parents care?”

He continued to mark papers and said, “No. He went home for the summer like every other student.”

“Why didn’t you do something about it?” she said appalled.

He stood from the table and stacked the quizzes conveying his irritation with her accusation. “I tried, but that's how I ended up destroying part of the school. I considered myself lucky not to have been caught, as being sent home with a letter from the Headmaster wouldn't have gone over very well for me.” He shook his head at her. 

Hermione watched Professor Snape place his stack of essays on the desk before heading to his room for the evening. She didn’t know what to say to him. She felt quite guilty for being so quick to judge. Harry had even told her about his father. Why hadn’t it dawned on her?

Tuesday, May 6th Hermione was sitting on the couch reading when Professor Snape stormed in. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he barked as he threw his outer robe over the back of one of the armchairs. When she looked at him with a baffled expression he spat, “Potter maimed Malfoy today in the prefects’ bathroom.”

“Oh,” she sighed in relief. She’d thought something had gone wrong, not that he would have known if it had of course. 

“Oh?” he seethed. “You didn’t think that mattered? You didn’t think that was worth mentioning? Had I not been there-”

“But you were!” she said. “It was horrible! I know, but you were there, and he’s going to be fine.”

“He almost killed Lucius Malfoy’s son!” he snarled at her. “Where did Potter learn that spell? You know. Don’t you?”

“You know I couldn’t tell you. Besides, it’s not like I did it, so you may as well stop shouting at me,” she defended herself.

He went into the kitchen and yanked open the cupboard under the sink, pulled out a bottle of red wine, and opened it. “I know,” he sighed grabbing two glasses from the cabinet over the sink. Professor Snape stalked over to the couch and sat down next to her placing the bottle and glasses on the coffee table. He rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face.

Trying to help, Hermione opened the wine and poured them each a glass. “I know it was a bad day, but it’s over now.”

He took a generous swig of his wine and leaned back on the couch. “What was he thinking?”

“He wasn’t: he was being careless. He didn’t know that was going to happen. Believe me, he’s very upset about it himself,” she told him.

“What a relief it is to learn that Potter has a conscience,” he sneered. 

Sighing, Hermione rolled her eyes. It was no use trying to get him to change his mind. It was for the best that he didn't anyway. 

An hour later, Hermione and Professor Snape had finished the bottle of wine and opened another. She sipped her third glass while contemplating her confusing feelings for the man sitting next to her. Had she grown attracted to him? She had thought about the kiss they shared far too often to think otherwise. She tuned to face him and pulled one leg up underneath her on the couch. 

“Professor, how have you managed living down here away from everyone for so long?” she asked.

He was leaning his head back against the couch with his eyes clothes. “I really wish you’d stop calling me Professor,” he breathed. “It just reminds me I have a student in my rooms.” He cringed at the thought. “It’s confusing enough having you sit in my classroom during the day and then having to come back here to this you.”

“Oh. Ok, Sir. Didn’t you get lonely being down here?” she asked more plainly. Professor Snape laughed lightly at her continued formal address as he opened his eyes. “Though I suppose it probably only makes your life harder having me down here, even if I am someone to talk to.” She chewed on her lip as she thought aloud. “I mean, you’re obviously not comfortable in your own rooms anymore. You come out of your bedroom in the morning all buttoned up like that. By the way, you don’t have to do that on my account.”

“I was under the impression it was normal to be dressed during the day. Would you prefer I walk around in my briefs?” he joked.

Hermione blushed, but she laughed as she said, “Maybe.” This earned her a raised eyebrow. She brushed her fingers on his hand that was resting on the cushion between them. She wasn’t sure what had gotten into her. She’d never been this forward with anyone before. Feeling unsure of herself, she went to remove her hand.

He leaned over and kissed her before she could pull away. Hermione was sure of it this time. He had kissed her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she coaxed his tongue to come out and play. His weight leaned on her, and she slowly lowered herself back onto the couch until he was resting on top of her. He turned, bringing his knee up and settling it between her and the back of the couch. One of his hands came up to cup her breast, and she moaned into his mouth. Lifting her hips slightly, she reached down and grabbed his firm cheeks to press him into her. Just as she registered feeling his burgeoning erection, he sat up.

“I think we’ve had too much wine,” he stated standing up from the couch. “Need to get some sleep.”

Hermione couldn’t help but feel bereft as she watched him walk to his bedroom and close the door behind him.


	12. A Flaw In The Plan

Professor Snape avoided her once again for almost an entire week. The following Saturday was the first day he’d spent more than two minutes in her presence at once since the evening of "too much wine,” and she couldn’t help but feel badly for him, even if she was a little miffed he had left her there like that. It must be horrible to have such a hard time with intimacy, she told herself. 

Deciding she couldn’t put it off any longer, Hermione broached the subject of the potions she need once again, “Sir, I was wondering if you’d given any more thought to giving me the potions I need.”

He looked at her with indifference. “No. There is no need to think about it. It is not going to happen,” he said definitively. 

“But Sir, it won’t interfere with anything,” she argued.

He asked, “How can you be sure? If it isn't going to interfere with anything, why do you need it?” When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “That’s why my answer is no. Whatever happens, or in your case has happened, was and is meant to be.”

While she was frustrated that he had refused to help her, she was relieved he was talking to her again. The following weeks were spent in polite conversation around meals but neither seemed to want to get too close. For Hermione, she didn’t think she could take yet another rejection from him. He obviously felt some sort of attraction toward her but wasn’t interested in acting on. She could live with that though. She still wanted him alive even if he did not want her the way she had grown to want him. It had been a rocky road, but she had come to accept that she felt that way about him.

As the end of May approached, Hermione realized that the more she grew to care about him, the more difficult this was going to be for her. He was going to die, and he wouldn’t even help her save his own life. After he had refused to help her yet again, she couldn’t help but feel heartbroken. She shut herself in her room for the remainder of the day. Her plan was as good as any could be, but it wouldn’t do any good without those potions. 

The next morning Hermione was making tea at lunchtime while she thought about how little time she had left to convince him to help her. She needs to send these potions to her younger self before Dumbledore dies. Otherwise, her plan is almost guaranteed to fail. After Dumbledore’s death, she would have been far too suspicious to keep anything that came to her in such a way. Her best bet was to send them to herself before then and hope she will just toss them into her bag. With any luck, she will remember she has them when the time comes. 

Suddenly, she realized there was a huge problem with her situation regardless of the potions. She was going to end up trapped in the school over the summer in his abandoned rooms! Panic struck her quickly, and she called out, “Max!” 

Pop! “Yes Miss?” he asked twiddling with the hem of his smock.

“I need to speak to Headmaster Dumbledore as soon as he’s available,” she said. How could she only just now realize what was going to happen?

“I will give him the message, Miss,” he bowed and disapparated. 

Dumbledore came by later that evening, which was good timing considering Professor Snape was not in his quarters. She had carefully explained what her problem was, and he agreed that something must be done to ensure that everything goes forward smoothly. They didn’t have to wait too long before Professor Snape returned.

“Headmaster,” he greeted removing his outer robes and hanging them in the closet. He moved to sit in one of the armchairs while Dumbledore spoke.

“A matter has come to my attention, and I believe it is imperative we discuss it now,” Dumbledore said. “In the event that you carry out the order Voldemort has given to Draco Malfoy, it would be reasonable to assume you would leave the school for at least some period of time before you to return under his orders.” Snape didn’t say anything and strummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “In the event that does happen, Miss Granger is going to be in quite the predicament being stuck here in your rooms with no one knowing she is here. Someone would find her if they were to search your rooms, and we cannot just leave her to wander about on her own for an unknown amount of time.”

“And what solution are you proposing?” he inquired not looking at Hermione once.

Dumbledore frowned and answered, “The only thing that may work, is taking her to your home. Even if you’re not there, she can exist without it causing a catastrophe.”

Snape looked between the two of them with a look of obvious displeasure on his face. “That may not even be necessary, Headmaster.” He furrowed his brow, “If that becomes necessary, I will have to come get her from my rooms before I leave. There won’t be any chance of coming back once I’m out. What if I’m to babysit that rat again? I can hardly see how this is a logical plan.”

“It will be necessary, Severus. Because we know that, you will take her there beforehand,” he answered. “As for Peter Pettigrew, you’ll have to do whatever is necessary. Obliviate him if you must.”

Professor Snape’s demeanor changed, but Hermione couldn’t quite tell if he was angry or hurt or something else all together. He spoke quietly, “When am I to take her?” 

“We’ve decided sometime during the fourth week of June. It will give us some flexibility if you are to take her some days ahead of time,” he nodded to himself. 

“Yes, Headmaster,” he said standing, “If that is all, I’d like to get some rest.” When Dumbledore nodded, Professor Snape left the two of them sitting in the living room.

“I feel just awful,” Hermione whined. “He has so much on his plate already, and now this. I wish there was something I could do to help him through it all.”

Dumbledore said as he stood up from the couch, “Being there for someone is the best gift one can give.” He disappeared through the fireplace before she could respond to him.


	13. A Crushing Blow

Professor Snape grew more and more irritable over the next couple weeks. While he wasn’t avoiding Hermione, he was snapping at her for the most obscure things including stirring her tea too loudly. She knew it was likely that he was incredibly stressed about what he was going to have to do soon, and she tried to distract him with pleasant conversation. That usually ended poorly, though. 

On the third Friday of June, he came back to his rooms in a particularly sour mood after dinner. “Do you have to do that in my living room?” he barked.

“What? I’m just brushing my hair,” she said. 

“Yes, hair which you are getting all over the place!” he snapped. 

Hermione stood up and followed him into the kitchen where he was pouring a cup of tea. “I understand that you’re under a lot of pressure, but you don’t have to take it out on me,” she told him.

“You don't understand anything. There’s no way I can pull this off. I cannot do this,” he finished talking more to himself than her while he leaned on the counter, gripping the edge with both hands.

She walked up to him and put her hand on his forearm, “You can. I know you can because you already have. You did it alone, and you executed your part flawlessly.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “But it doesn’t have to be that way this time. It can be easier for you now that you don’t have to be alone,” she explained. He looked at her in confusion. “I’m here. I know who you are, and I’m not going to turn my back on you. You just have to let me in.” 

Professor Snape turned to her and folded his arms in front of his chest. “How will that help me? Are you really suggesting that having a person, from the future no less, hidden away from everyone else is going to make this all easier?” he asked.

“Yes! You can talk to me about what’s really going on. You can trust me. I can help you escape it all when it gets too much. You don’t have to do it all alone,” she offered taking his hand and tugging lightly until his arms fell down to his sides. 

He stood there looking at the ground quietly. Hermione tugged on his hand, but he didn’t look up. She stepped into his space and said, “Severus, please.” He did look at her finally, and she stood on her toes to kiss him chastely. “It’s going to be okay. Come on,” she tugged again. This time he let her lead him out of the kitchen. Instead of going into the living room, Hermione guided him to his bedroom door. 

Once she had gotten him to the side of his bed, she went straight for the buttons at the base of his neck. He seemed quite numb, as he stood there and stared at her in the dimly lit room. The light from the living area spilled in through the doorway, but they were out of its direct path. After she had gotten his outer robes off, she turned him around and pushed him back to sit on the bed.

Hermione knelt down and removed his shoes and socks one at a time. She kicked her slippers off as she stood to face him again. Before her nervousness got the best of her, she tugged at his undershirt freeing it from his trousers and pulled it over his head. Severus finally seemed to snap out of his haze and pulled her forward until his lips captured hers.He drank her in like a prisoner savoring moonshine.

Marveling in his passionate kisses, she undid his belt and the top button of his trousers before unzipping them. Hermione broke away from the kiss to remove her shirt. Severus reached out for her slim waist, but she fell to her knees before he could bring her back to him. He lifted his hips when she tugged at his pants and pulled them off of each leg. His black boxer briefs would have to wait because she was growing too impatient. She needed to make a move before he went running again. Reaching in, she wrapped her hand around his hot throbbing member and gently pulled it out through the open folds in the fabric. 

Severus took in a sharp breath as she stroked the length of him. The head of his cock reached up just past his belly button and pulsed in her hand. She had to sit up and lean forward to get her mouth around the dark pink head, and she was rewarded when she did. Severus reached down and tangled his right hand in her mass of curls as she swirled her tongue around the tip. 

He never once tried to thrust into her mouth, but he continued grunting and tightening the grip he had on her locks. Tasting the salty dribble of precum, she sucked on the head and teased his slit with her tongue. Severus leaned forward and hooked on hand under her arm and pulled her up off of him. Without preamble, he pushed her pants and underwear down her legs. Hermione stepped out of them and allowed him to pull her up on to the bed with him. He worked his way out of his briefs as she got on her knees again. 

Once he was lying back on the bed, Hermione moved to straddle his lap. He moaned quietly as her heat smothered his cock. Leaning forward, she found his lips and began to kiss him earnestly. His hands reached around and unhooked her bra, his fingertips trailing down the backs of her arms with the straps. He thrust up against her propelling her forward, and before she could blink, his mouth was sucking in one of her nipples.

“Ahh,” she moaned as he bit down gently on her stiffened peak. She reached down between them and lined his heavy shaft up with her core. Her nipple slipped from his mouth as she lowered herself onto the head of his cock. He first let out a disappointed whine which turned into a rumbling groan as her molten pussy enveloped him. 

Now sitting up on his erection, she began to raise and lower herself on him. His hands traveled over her body. He stoked her thighs, smoothed over her stomach, and squeezed her perky breasts. She was jostled briefly while he pulled the both of them up the bed until his head was leaning against the headboard, cock still buried inside her. She felt his knees come up, the tops of his thighs meeting her hamstrings. Somehow, this gave him the leverage he needed to pound into her. “Ohhh,” she breathed as she felt him hit that tender spot inside her. He grabbed her ass with both hands and pushed her down onto him each time he thrust into her. Moaning and panting Hermione leaned forward and drew his earlobe between her lips. 

His breathing was becoming labored, and she was about to explode herself. He had hammered into her gspot hard enough that she thought she might actually wet herself, but instead it pushed her over the edge. She clamped and contracted around him, making it very difficult for him to push into her restricting channel. Once she was on the tail end and no longer had a death grip on his dick, he returned to impaling her almost painfully until he let out a deep moan himself. 

After a minute, she lifted off of him, his cock slipping free spreading their mixed fluids down her inner thigh. Hermione rolled over and pulled a pillow under her head while he messed with the blanket to fight off the cold their bodies only just now seemed to notice. She fell asleep rather quickly afterwards while she remained lying next to him. 

When Hermione woke, she opened her eyes, which were met with a pair of black ones apparently studying her. She should have been in heaven, laying there naked with him after a night of passion, but she couldn’t help but feel somber. It would be foolish and horrible to fall in love with a man she knew was going to die in a year. Tears welled in her eyes even though she tried to keep them at bay. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asked her, his throat still gruff from sleep.

She decided to answer him honestly. “I need those potions,” she whispered. “Please,” she begged. 

He huffed and threw the covers off of himself. “Not this again,” he mumbled as he shoved his legs, one at a time, into his trousers forgoing his briefs. “He’s not worth it.” Severus buttoned his pants. 

“What?” she asked confused.

“Weasley. He’s not worth risking the war for. Not to mention you’re too good for him. He’s not even smart enough to figure out you have been pining for him. I don’t know what you could possibly see in that dunderhead,” he vented pulling his under shirt over his head. He grabbed this robes and walked out into the kitchen leaving Hermione in his bed.

She couldn’t have been more crushed. He’d apparently witnessed her crush on Ron play out with her younger self and assumed she was doing all of this for him. He couldn't be more wrong, but what could she say to him? Nothing. She couldn’t tell him anything.


	14. Fate In A Brown Paper Package

Severus and Hermione avoided each other over the next few days, as they were both upset, even if for different reasons. Sunday evening, Severus broached the subject of moving Hermione to Spinners End. He told her he would prefer to take her on Thursday the 26th, as it was an evening he didn’t have rounds. Hermione agreed right away because it didn’t matter to her, unless she counted the days she would have to spend alone in his home waiting and worrying. She’d be waiting and worrying in the castle as well though. 

They were sitting at the table drinking tea and reading on Tuesday evening. She brought about a conversation on how they were going to leave the school. His plan was to disillusion her, lead her out to the gates, and apparate directly there, where he would help her get settled. Once agreed upon, he returned to his book. Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. Her heart was hurting, and the only way to fix it was to talk to him even if she couldn't say much.

“Severus,” she said as she reached out to touch his arm. He pulled away and looked at her reproachfully. She sighed but pressed on, “I know you’re upset. I’m upset too, but I…can’t explain anything. I wish I could, but I can’t. I probably should even tell you this, but Ron and I weren’t even together when I showed up here.”

“What exactly is your point?” he said with annoyance obvious in his tone. 

She groaned, “My point is that I think you’ve made incorrect assumptions, and I’m not in a position to correct them being from…when I’m from.”

He frowned at her, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?” he asked. When she didn’t answer, he went back to reading. 

Hermione wept as she packed a bag to go to Spinner’s End. He wasn’t going to help her. The likelihood of saving him was dwindling to almost nothing. She knew she wouldn’t trust anything that had suspiciously come to her over the summer or while she was on the run with the boys. 

Hermione met Severus in the living room just before ten on Thursday evening. Once he cast a disillusionment charm on her, he led her out of the school without a word aside from warning her to keep up. Outside the gate, he held his arm out expectantly. As soon as she grabbed it, they were sucked into the strange space of apparation. 

Standing outside of a brick house in a rundown neighborhood, Hermione felt a little nervous. It was obviously a muggle neighborhood, and she worried about the crime rate in such a town. Severus led her inside and cast several charms upon entering; dusting, lighting a fire, turning on the lights. 

“Welcome to hell,” he said bitterly. He strode through the open doorway on the opposite side of the room. Quickly following him, she realized he was taking her into the kitchen. He waved his hand at the cabinets, and they all opened for her. She glanced around noting where things were for a moment. “You’ll be better off staying in the room upstairs on the right. I’m afraid some kind of evil lurks in the one down stairs, and I haven’t had a chance to hire an exorcist.”

Hermione looked at him in surprise. “You’ll come here as soon as you can. Right?” she asked feeling slightly afraid for herself for the first time. “You shouldn’t be alone afterwards if you can help it,” she added sincerely. 

“I’ll do what I’m able,” he answered as he pulled a small box from his pocket and enlarged it. “This should get you through for a while,” he explained waiving his hand over the box. 

She looked inside and saw basic food items she would need. She nodded to him. “Thank you,” she said taking his hand. He didn’t pull away from her this time, but a pained expression crossed his face. “Please be careful. I care about you, you know,” she told him trying not to cry.

Severus reached into his pocket, pulled out two phials, and held them out to her. Hermione was stunned. She began to cry as she threw her arms around him and kissed him with fervor. Wrapping his arms around her, he allowed himself a moment to indulge in her affectionate nature.

He stepped away and cleared his throat. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I’m going to need an owl. Send me one, please,” she asked in a hurry.

He nodded just before he disapparated. 

Hermione’s hands trembled as she looked down at the potions that would save his life. He'd given them to her most likely still thinking they were for another wizard. 

She spent the next day writing and rewriting the letter she hoped would stopper Severus’ death. No matter how she worded it, she knew it was going to look suspicious getting a letter from her future self. After deciding to send it from someone else, she knew just what to write. The owl came from the school with a copy of the Daily Prophet as she was finishing up the letter. Glancing over it, she read: 

Miss Granger,  
I give these to you in the hopes that you will find them useful. Should there come a time when you could stop some of the carnage with these potions (blood replenisher and antivenin), I hope that your kindness has remained as vibrant as ever. Keep them with you, and don’t tell anyone you have them.  
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore

Happy with it, Hermione tied the package in brown parchment and twine. Until this very moment, she hadn’t allowed herself to spend any time thinking about what this would mean for the future. She could hardly stand the thought of what was almost certainly going to be the price of keeping him alive. It was overwhelming, but saving his life was far more important. She had quite a bit of work to do before he returned, so she tied the package to the owl’s let and watched it fly out into the early evening breeze. She cried as she watched both of their fate’s change forever, hopefully.


	15. Blindsided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are still several more chapters to go. This is more the middle than the end of the story, so please don't decide you hate me yet.

May 3, 1998

Hermione sat with Harry in Professor Snape’s hospital room while they waited with bated breath for him to show any sign of waking. The healers told them they were unsure if he would wake any time soon. 

Harry stood up and yawned, “I’m going to go get some fresh air and something to eat. Are you hungry?”

She shook her head but then said, “I could use some tea.” Harry nodded and left her alone with Professor Snape. After nearly an hour, she put down the journal she was reading and stood to stretch her stiff muscles. They had been sitting there most of the last twelve hours. Ron had only left a few hours ago to check on his family. 

Looking at the pale man lying in the bed in front of her, Hermione wondered what he would have been like had his life not been full of so much pain. She moved closer to him, and the black smudges around his eyes became strikingly defined eyelashes. His skin was more gaunt than usual. She hadn’t told Harry or Ron yet about the potions Dumbledore had sent to her almost a year ago. She had told them to go on without her and that she would catch up. She’d never been gladder of any decision in her life, but she wasn’t quite ready to share it with anyone yet. 

Reaching out, she touched his hand which lay on top of the sheet. He was somewhat cold, so she wrapped her hands around his icy digits. It was softer than she would have expected, but it was still boney, much like the rest of him seemed to be. A slight squeeze on her hand made her inhale sharply. She eyes went wide as his struggled to flutter open, the light apparently bothering them. 

“Hermione?” the deep voice rasped, eyes squinting in an attempt to block out some of the bright light of the hospital room. 

“Sir?” she questioned at his use of her given name, but she quickly recovered. “Oh my god,” she breathed before letting go of his hand and rushing out of the room looking for the doctor who just happened to be speaking with Minerva McGonagall, “He’s awake!” she shouted at the pair of them. “Professor Snape is awake!” 

Turning back into the room as quickly as she could, she found him reaching a trembling hand up to the bandages around his throat. “It’s probably best not to speak if it hurts at all, Sir,” she advised as she came back to his side. 

Minerva and Dr. Drexler came sweeping into the room and surrounded him within a second. The doctor took his stethoscope and checked his heart and lungs while taking his pulse. 

“Severus, can you hear me?” Minerva asked.  
He strained, “I’m not deaf.” He grimaced at the pain and moved his hand back up to his throat. “What happened?” he asked.

“It’s over. Voldemort is dead,” she told him. 

The door opened and Harry appeared with a cup of tea and a cheese Danish. “Professor!” he said setting the items in his hands down in a hurry. “We were so worried,” he said with a genuine look of concern. 

“His blood pressure appears to be rising. Perhaps visitors aren’t what he needs right now. I’ll have to ask the three of you to leave. He needs rest and plenty of it,” the doctor told them firmly.

Hermione nodded and dragged Harry out of the room by his arm. “He woke just a few moments ago. He seemed a bit out of it,” she said recalling how he addressed her. “Now that we know he’ll be okay, we should go back to the Burrow. The Weasley’s will want to know that he has woken up.”

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Hermione sat in the living room of the Burrow while Harry explained to everyone that Professor Snape had woken up. She watched as Ginny sat next to him holding his hand lovingly. Ron, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor next to her, was twirling his wand absentmindedly. When he leaned back and put his heavy arm around her, she couldn’t help but feel put out by the weight of him on her back. Shouldn’t she feel like Ginny, fawning over him and hanging on his every word? This is what she wanted. Wasn’t it? 

Over the next few weeks, she decided she didn’t want to date Ron but hadn’t had the heart to tell him yet. Ginny and Harry were still head over heels with each other. Harry’s curiosity about Professor Snape seemed to inflate into an obsession. Professor Snape had refused visitors after the first day he had woken up. He and was released from St. Mungos, and Minerva said he’d returned to Hogwarts to finish healing under the care of Poppy Pomfrey. Harry had thrice requested to see him, but Minerva had let him down gently the first two times. Professor Snape had flat out refused on the third occasion with a rather snippy letter. 

The boys had accepted jobs in the auror department, but Hermione made up her mind to finish up school first. She couldn’t fathom returning to the school without them, however. She heard that Professor Snape, although staying at the school, would be on sabbatical. Something about going back to Hogwarts knowing so much would be different didn’t sit right with her. She asked Minerva to help her schedule her newts with the Ministry of Magic at the end of June.

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June 30th, 1998

Hermione made her way into the Ministry of Magic nervous but well prepared for her newts. Several hours later, she walked out of the testing area feeling relieved that it was finally over. Certain she passed everything, she smiled as she met Ron, Harry, and Ginny in the lobby. Ron held a bouquet of roses out to her and kissed her on the cheek while the other two smiled to each other. “Honeydukes then?” she asked them. 

Just then, Hermione saw the tall, dark form of Professor Snape leaning up against the concierge desk staring at her. Surprised to see him out at all, let alone at the Ministry, she offered him a smile. 

“Yep!” Ron said. “Time to get liquored up in your academic honor.”

Realizing no one else had seen Professor Snape, Hermione hurried them along through the left exit. She could only imagine the last thing he would want was to run in to Harry, who seemed hell-bent on harassing the man. She had, at one point, started wanting to slap him when he would bring the professor up in conversation. 

Hermione woke late the next day, and had to scramble to get ready to go shopping with the girls. She threw on a pair of skinny jeans, a black tee-shirt, and red flats. After brushing her teeth, she knotted her hair up in a messy bun, just as she heard Ginny knocking on her door. “I’ll be out in a second,” she told her. Hermione had been staying with Harry at the Grimauld Place since the end of the war. Ginny had spent nearly half her nights over there. It was awkward when Ron would be there late with them because she would to send Ron on his way not wanting him to think she was interested in a sleep over. 

After leaving the tea shop, Hermione said, “I need to go into the bookstore. Go on ahead to Zonko’s.” Ginny and Luna continued walking up the street as Hermione ducked into Daunt(ing) Books, which was a spinoff of the muggle bookstore in London. While browsing the history section for something new, she stepped back to better read the title of a small tome when she bumped into someone.

Turning around, she gasped in surprise, “Professor! I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

Professor Snape looked at her as if confused but said, “That much is apparent. I had thought you would have come to see me.”

“I would have come over to say hello the other day, but I figured you would rather carry on with your business and not have to deal with all of Harry’s questions,” she explained.

He raised his eyebrows. “Yes, thank you for that.” He seemed to be looking at her expectantly.

“As for before, I heard you were not accepting visitors. If I had known it was just a rumor, I would have stopped by,” she offered an apologetic smile. “I’m glad to see you’re well enough to be out running errands, though. We were all quite worried there for a while,” she said. “Are you going to return to teaching any time soon?”

“I-I’m not sure yet. Most likely after the new year,” he answered. He suddenly looked a bit pale and ran a hand down his face while reaching out to the bookshelf behind him for support. “You don’t remember. Do you?” he whispered looking back over his shoulder to see if anyone was nearby.

“Remember what? Sir, are you alright?” she asked worriedly.

He shook his head, “Perhaps I was a bit hasty in my enthusiasm to venture out so soon. I should probably get back to the castle.” He looked as if he were searching for words as well as her face for a moment. He then admitted, “Some of the potions they have me on have a tendency to make me a bit disoriented at times.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Well, I won’t keep you then,” she said looking past him at Ginny who was waiting rather impatiently. “It seems my friends are waiting for me anyway. It was nice to see you, Sir,” she offered him a genuine smile and touched him gently on the arm. Although he wasn’t smiling before, his face seemed to fall somewhat as she did so. She had no idea why. “Say hello to Minerva for me,” she said before moving past him to reunite with Luna and Ginny who were standing outside of the book shop.


	16. A Stranger Encounter

Over the next three months, Hermione applied for many jobs but ultimately accepted one working in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. She was still staying at Harry’s, so she could save up a bit of money. Her relationship with her parents was still too fragile to ask to move back in with them. Her new job was interesting, but as there were no recent emergencies, she hadn’t had any hands on training yet. Not that peace was something to complain about!

Minerva invited her to lunch on Friday. Apparently, they had a long staff meeting scheduled that morning, and she thought it would be a nice time to catch up since the normal schedule was interrupted already. She hadn’t yet found her replacement for Transfiguration professor and was running ragged trying to keep up with both her headmistress and professor duties. She sent Hermione the password for the grounds that week, so she could let herself in. 

Once Hermione was inside the castle, she made her way up to the fifth floor and down the left corridor, where she knew the staff room to be. As she approached the door, it opened. Professor Sprout and Neville came out together. He had enthusiastically taken an apprenticeship with her at the start of term. They continued on with their lively conversation, never having noticed her. 

“Ah. There you are, Hermione,” Minerva said coming to hold the door open to allow Hermione in. 

Hermione was struck by the rustic look of the room, as it vaguely reminded her of The Hog’s Head, somewhere between a pub and a classroom. There was a small kitchen are with a beverage station and several old wooden tables with worn in chairs. Nearly all of the fixtures appeared somewhat rusted, though she wasn’t sure if it was intentionally made to look that way. A few brown leather chairs and a matching sofa sat around a fireplace. Professor Snape sat in one of the chairs sipping tea with his legs crossed while reading a book. 

She hugged Minerva as she said, “Thank you for inviting me. It’s nice to see the school’s been repaired.” Hermione caught Professor Snape’s eye and was stuck looking into the black orbs momentarily before removing her coat and sending it to the rack near the door. “How was the meeting?” she asked.

“Excellent. I’m looking forward to implementing the new program I was telling you about,” she said motioning for Hermione to sit at a table off to their right. 

Hermione sat in the chair nearest her, while Minerva took the chair opposite. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the man sitting in the chair by the fire again, as she could see him perfectly just over Minerva’s shoulder. “Right. It had something to do with…” she suddenly couldn’t remember. He was looking at her again, and she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous having his attention. 

McGonagall furrowed her brow, “Ethic in the use of magic.” 

“Yes. Of course,” Hermione said drawing her eyes away from Snape’s. “How did the rest of the staff feel about it?” She couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder again, just to see if he was still looking at her. He wasn’t, thankfully. 

“Rather well, actually. Severus offered to assist anyone who was stuck on how to implement the lesson into their courses,” she said proudly.

“Did he really?” she asked, only realizing too late that it may have sounded insulting. “Well, hopefully they don’t take up too much of his time.” He looked up from his book at her again and smirked at her appalling attempt to cover her blunder. 

Minerva waved her hand over the table and several platters appeared. Hermione grabbed a sandwich and a few spoonfuls of mixed fruit before pouring herself a glass of water. 

“I hear you’re enjoying your new job. Harry told me they have given you a promotion already,” she told her taking a sandwich herself.

“Minirva?” Professor Flitwick called from the doorway.

She turned to see who was addressing her. “Yes?” 

He cleared his throat, “I’m afraid we need your assistance in the music room. We’ve lost control of the amplifliers again. They’re making such a ruckus; you can hear them as far as the fourth floor! Although, it is possible one of them flew out of the room and made its way up there.”

Her lips thinned in annoyance, “This is the third time this week. Is there something wrong with them? Perhaps we should have Hagrid take a look at them. Maybe they’re not getting enough fiber.” Poor Professor Flitwick looked a bit sheepish as she stood and excused herself, “I’ll be back shortly, Hermione.”

Within seconds, Hermione was alone in the staff room with Professor Snape. There had been a few other teachers in here when she came in. Where did they go? How had she not noticed them leave? She should have offered to go with Minerva. She’d never seen nor heard out of control amplifliers before. Hermione sat stiffly as Professor Snape put a marker in his book and stood. 

Hermione fiddled with her silverware as he walked toward her, and she nearly jumped up spouting she’d forgotten something she had to do when he took Minerva’s abandoned seat. She hadn’t been able to get that last run-in with him out of her mind for nearly a week afterwards, as it had been so odd. “Sir,” she said as she picked up her cup to take a sip of tea. 

“Minerva mentioned you were working at the ministry, but I don’t recall which department,” he said conversationally.

It was strange having him talk to her voluntarily. “Um- the Department for Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Disaster response essentially,” she added as if he didn’t already know.

Snape nodded, “It takes someone who can think on their feet and is skilled in many areas of magic.” He picked up his tea and said, “I imagine you’d be rather good at it,” before taking a sip.

Hermione’s mouth fell open. What was going on? She was suspicious. She sat back in her chair and folded her arms over her chest. “What is it that you want, Professor? It’s obviously something,” she asked. She wasn’t his student anymore and was not about to act like she still was. 

Professor Snape looked down at his tea for a moment before he answered, “I’m working on a new potion, and I could use a capable second pair of hands.” He sat his tea down and looked at her as if he had no idea how odd he was being.

“I-,” Hermione began. “What?” she asked when she decided she mustn’t have heard him correctly.

“I’m going to start brewing an experimental potion. I would like help,” he spoke to her as if she were daft. “I don’t want my lab blown up by some dunderheaded student. Do you want to assist?” He frowned at her while he waited for an answer.

“I…Okay,” she replied. “When?” Hermione asked. 

Shrugging, he threw out, “Tomorrow afternoon, if you’re fee.” 

Hermione watched him pick up a piece of pineapple and bring it to his mouth. She blinked a few times before responding, “One thirty would work for me.” She couldn’t help but stare at his lips as he chewed a few times before swallowing. Never, had she been this close to the man while he ate. He had always been far away at the staff table, and even then, he was frequently absent. 

“Very well,” he said standing up just as Minerva walked back into the room. “Tomorrow then.”

Rubbing her forehead, Minerva sat down in her recently vacated chair and shook out her napkin as she scooted closer to the table. “What was that about?” she asked as she took a sip of tea.


	17. And So It Begins

Harry and Ron were stuck working on a case and couldn’t get the day off, so Hermione met Ginny and Luna for lunch in Hogsmeade at noon by herself on Saturday. The girls discussed how the school year was going and Hermione shared the recent highlights of her job with them. Once they were all done eating, Ginny suggested they stop by to see George for a bit.

“I can’t. I’m meeting Professor Snape in less than half an hour,” Hermione explained.

“Why?” Ginny asked skeptically while Luna continued to dig through her bag looking for a mint.

She shrugged, “He asked me to assist him with a potion.”

“When?” Ginny asked still confused.

Hermione sighed, “When I ran in to him yesterday while I was at the school visiting McGonagall.”

The redhead looked concerned, “So….you have some sort of weird nerdy date with Snape?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Gin. It’s not a date,” Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend while putting her coat on.

“Considering the fact that he never liked any of us Gryffindors or acknowledged your hard work, why else would he ask you?” she asked. 

She did have a point, but the idea was still absurd. Hermione worried her lip, “I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t really hate us after all. Maybe he just had to pretend to hate us.”

“He’s a damn good actor then!” Gin laughed. “You’ll let me know if makes a move on you, won’t you? I could really use a good laugh.”

“Oh! I bet he’s a sensitive lover,” Luna added unhelpfully.

Ginny gawked at Luna while Hermione glared at the two of them and said, “I should get going.” She picked up her bag and set some money on the table for her meal. She hugged the girls and promised to say hi to Harry for Ginny. The walk was a bit chilly as it was already mid October, and she wrapped her arms around her body thinking about what Ginny had said to her. A date? She couldn’t help but laugh at the idea. 

Walking past several groups of students, Hermione decided she was very glad to have opted out of returning, as she was getting more stares and whispers than ever before. At least now they were admiring her and not picking on some obscure flaw. Finally in the depths of the dungeon, she knocked on the door to the potions classroom, but there was no answer. Realizing he must be in his office, she continued down into the dungeons a bit further. She was relieved to see that his door was propped open but knocked anyway out of respect. 

“Miss Granger,” he greeted and waved her in, “you’re right on time.” Professor Snape stood, gathered several stacks of parchment, and moved them to a table off to the side of the room. He then led her out of his office, locking and warding the door behind them. 

She followed him down further into the dungeons wondering where he was taking her. “Where are we going, Sir?” she asked.

“I set up a lab in my living quarters, so I could keep an eye on my experiment,” he answered simply. He stopped as he caught sight of her expression when he looked back at her. “Is that a problem?” he asked sincerely, his brows joining together.

Shaking away thoughts of her conversation with Ginny, she told him, “No, not at all. Lead the way.” Hermione followed him down further and further until there was literally nowhere else to go but back up toward civilization and daylight. “I imagine it gets a bit lonely down here so far away from everyone else. You could almost pretend you weren’t even in the castle at all,” she commented.

He smiled at her subtly, “I’ve heard that before.” Hermione’s stomached flipped at the rare smile he gifted her with. “Anemone,” he said to the portrait of a stunning woman painted against a dreary background. 

“Brought Lolita with you?” the woman nearly shrieked, causing Hermione to look up at Professor Snape. “A bit young for you. Don’t you think? She’s not a student is she?!” she asked accusingly. 

Professor Snape’s eyes turned into slits as he said, “Unless you’d like to become firewood, Nyala, I suggest you mind your own business and allow us entry. And what have I told you about eaves dropping on book clubs? You really need to find a different hobby.” 

“Fine. I thought we had a good thing going. I cannot believe I’ve lost another prized wizard to a younger witch,” she pouted. “Less skilled than myself as well I’m sure!”

“I assure you, that’s not the case,” he gave her a wolfish grin that made Hermione’s stomach do that flipping thing again. The portrait swung open and Professor Snape ushered her inside. 

Hermione asked as the walk through the entrance, “Did you know that in Greek mythology, that was the flower that grew from the ground where Aphrodite cried over her lost lover, Adonis?”

“Yes,” he admitted somewhat reluctantly. 

Suddenly realizing she shouldn’t have brought that up, seeing as how it mot definitely had to do with Lily Evans, she changed the subject. “What kind of potion are you attempting to create?” she asked.

“Something to minimize the appearance of scars, perhaps repair the scar tissue itself,” he answered while shuffling through a desk that sat opposite a seating area around a fireplace. Hermione self-consciously rubbed her arm. “Ah, here,” he said pulling out a few sheets of parchment. “Have a look over these before we get started. I suspect timing is going to be crucial.”

Hermione took the proffered pages and began to go over them. She’d never seen anything quite like it. There must have been thirty different ingredients. On top of that, they had to be added at intervals over its fourteen day brewing cycle. 

He interrupted her musings, “I know it’s a lot, but I couldn’t find a way to minimize the work without having side effects that would negate the purpose entirely.” 

Professor Snape placed an array of instruments on the table adjacent the one the cauldron was on. She was a bit surprised he had been willing to have his living space crowded like this with worktables for two weeks. 

They worked quietly side by side preparing ingredients and starting the potion for nearly two hours. Hermione couldn’t help but recall watching him in awe when he would give the rare demonstration. He was a master of his art, and it was truly a privilege to watch him work, to watch him create. 

“I think that ought to do it for today,” he said going to the sink in the kitchen to wash his hands. She followed him wanting to get the slug juice off of hers as well. “Here,” he said holding out the hand soap. She was going to wait until he was done, but she put her hand out and let him pump a few squirts into her awaiting palm. He then set it back on the counter and stepped over to allow her room to reach the water. 

Standing shoulder to…well, upper arm, she suddenly felt uncomfortable. She could have waited. Didn’t he realize this would be odd, standing so near, washing under the same tap? Taking the towel he offered her, she quickly dried her hands and gave it back to him, as he was waiting dripping into the sink. She stood there mesmerized as he wiped his hands dry with the towel damp from her use.

Professor Snape spoke, drawing her attention back to his face, “If you’d like, I could use help again next weekend. It should be ready to test the weekend after that, if you’d like to be present.”

“Yes, I’d like to know if it works. I know quite a few people who would love to have something to rid them of scars, especially since the war ended,” she said going to grab her coat.  


“Same time then?” he asked leaning on the counter.

She nodded. “Sure. Send me an owl with the password, so I don’t have to bother anyone to let me onto the grounds,” she said.


	18. Into The Vampire's Lair

Thursday evening Hermione received a letter from Professor Snape with both the password to the grounds and the password to his chambers. She had written a letter to Ginny the day before telling her nothing scandalous happened while brewing with Professor Snape, but she did forget to mention they were brewing in his private rooms. Hermione made plans to get together with her before dinner on Saturday while she was at the school, and she was looking forward to seeing her again. She couldn’t help but be intrigued by this seemingly new version of the professor she had learned from for years, so she was a bit anxious to see him as well. He had not barked at her or criticized her once while she helped him prepare ingredients. Either he was more relaxed because the war was over, or he was treating her differently because she was no longer his student. Whatever the reason, Hermione was grateful for the opportunity to get to see a more likable side to the man.

She threw on a pair of faded denims and a plain white tee. While fixing her hair up in a bun to keep it out of the way, she decided she would put on a little mascara to balance out her bland apparel. She grabbed her bag and left for Hogwarts eager to continue brewing, as she hadn’t made anything remotely exciting while studying for her newts. It was a thrill to get her intellectual juices flowing, and Professor Snape was nothing short of a genius when it came to potion making.

Once outside the gate, she looked down at the letter from him and said the password, “Humilium hospes.” The gate opened for her immediately, and she made her way to the castle and down through the dungeons until she reached the very deepest and darkest part of the school. She passed almost three times as many students as she had the previous weekend, as none of them were at Hogsmeade. She slowed to a leisurely stroll once she made it past the Slytherin dorm. 

“You’re back?” the woman in the portrait spat. She folded her arms under her chest making her bosom stand out even more, as if in an attempt to intimidate her.

Hermione frowned at the woman, “Yes. I was invited.”

“Ha!” she barked a laugh at her. 

“Initium novum,” Hermione gave her the password assuming that it would end the conversation.

That only earned her a glare, however. “Apparently you don’t recognize me. You must not have gone to this school,” she says disdainfully. “Somewhere overseas with lower standards, I presume.” 

“I most certainly did go to Hogwarts, and I happened to spend my time here learning important things. I did not waste my time learning about some trashy portrait hidden way under the school so no one would have to deal with her,” she snapped back.

“I am THE Nyala Romanelli,” the woman said defiantly. 

Furrowing her brow, Hermione asked, “Okay. Is that supposed to mean something? ” She’d never heard of her before.

Nyala suddenly looked outraged. “I can’t believe Severus is interested in an ignorant thing like you,” she seethed and looked Hermione up and down. “Not to mention, you are by far the homeliest woman he’s had down here. And he’s had plenty!” she ended up shouting.

“You listen here, Mussolini! I-” she started but stopped abruptly as the door swung open and she was standing in front of a concerned looking Professor Snape. “Hi,” she said to him sheepishly embarrassed having been caught arguing with a painting.

Snape stepped back to allow her in, and then moved into the doorway behind her. “Excuse me for just one moment, please,” he said as he held up a finger before he shut the door between them leaving her alone in his living quarters. A minute later, he reentered his rooms. “Sorry about her. I expect she won’t be giving you any more trouble in the future.”

Hermione nodded in appreciation. Before long, they were preparing the ingredients for the second half of the potion’s brewing process. Everything seemed to be coming along rather well. Had she tried to invent a potion herself, something would have gone awry by now, but she wasn’t surprised that he knew exactly how the ingredients would interact, all thirty of them, without any trials. He was a potions master after all. Unable to shake the comment Nyala made about his personal life, she decided to see if he would tell her anything about it aside from his job. “Nyala mentioned you have a lot of female visitors,” she told him with a wry smile.

Professor Snape looked at her with raised eyebrows. He let out a small laugh and said, “She’s a bit put out by my having invited someone here, it seems.”

“So it’s not true then?” she asks feigning a frown for his benefit. He really did deserve to be happy after all that he’d done for a woman who hadn’t even returned his affection.

He set down his dagger. “Do you really think that if I had a string of women coming and going from my room that there wouldn’t be any number of ridiculous rumors going around the school? Probably that I’ve hired them to drink their blood,” he said shaking his head and rolling his eyes. 

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Great! I hadn't stopped to think about what they must be saying about me.That has to the most illogical rumor I heard while attending school here. I mean, how would you attend quidditch matches during the day if you were a vampire?” 

“And what would the most logical of them?” he asked with exaggerated mock irritation. 

“Oh, um...” she had really put her foot in her mouth with that one. 

“You don’t have to answer that,” he said with a smirk. Turning his attention back to the cauldron, he added the rest of the ingredients Hermione had prepared. He set a timer for stirring and cast a charm of the stirring rod while Hermione started prepping the next needed ingredient. 

“It will take you all day if you do it that way. Here,” he said, stepping behind her. “You want to push down and rock it back up the other side,” he said stepping up to her from behind and taking her hand in one of his own while the other rested on the small of her back. Hermione froze as Professor Snape showed her a more efficient way to grind nettle a with mortar and pestle. Hermione suddenly felt hot, and she was more than a little uneasy after realizing her nipples were hard and could easily be noticed under her thin white shirt. 

Ginny’s comment about Professor Snape asking her on a date floated back into her mind. Panicking, Hermione wiggled her way out from between Professor Snape and the table. “I’m sorry. I just realized I’m late to meet someone I have plans with.” She went to grab her coat and felt a twinge of guilt seeing his eyebrows pinched together and his lips turned slightly down. The poor guy obviously had no idea why she was freaked out. He hadn't meant anything by it, but she was still unnerved.

“Shall I send you an owl with the passwords next week, or were you not interested in the trial run?” he asked her.

She walked quickly toward the door. “Oh, um. Sure. Yeah, send me an owl. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you,” she said before slipping out of his quarters. She couldn’t very well be seen hanging around the school now. She would just have to send Ginny an owl with some excuse as to why she couldn’t meet her as they had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The passwords are Latin for humble guest and new beginnings.


	19. The Test Subject

Hermione spent the next week feeling incredibly foolish. Clearly Professor Snape was not coming on to her and was bound to think she was insane. After receiving his owl with the current passwords, she penned a quick reply to let him know that she was planning on being there on Saturday. At least he still wanted her to come back. She just hoped that it wasn’t too awkward.

Once Hermione was standing in front of Nyala again, she noticed a small spot in the bottom corner of her portrait was half washed away. Not wanting to ask, she told Nyala the password, “Mollis cor meum.” Nyala let her in without saying a single word to her. 

Hermione was surprised to find herself alone in Professor Snape’s living room. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself, so she folded her jumper and set it on the back of the sofa and went over to the simmering cauldron. The potion was a pale blue color and looked to be quite thin. She picked up the notes Professor Snape had sitting on the other worktable and glanced at what might be left to do before they tested it. She remembered seeing another step at the end but not what it was.

“Miss Granger,” Professor Snape greeted as he came through the portrait. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I had to take a batch of calming draughts to Madam Pomfrey.”

Hermione set the papers down and told him, “Oh, that’s quite alright. I only just arrived a moment ago.” 

“Listen, about last week, I’m sorry if I-,” he began, but Hermione quickly cut him off.

“No! I’m sorry,” she insisted. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “My stupid friend got in my head. She made a joke about us brewing a potion together as being a date.” Oh, she wished she could take that back. Looking away, she fiddled with her nail bed trying not to blush.

“If we were dating, don’t you think that between the two of us,” he joked, “at least one of us would know about it?” 

She nodded. “It’s stupid. I know. Like I said, I’m sorry,” she told him again. When he snorted, she asked, “What?”

“I was just imagining the look on your friends’ faces if you told them we were dating,” he laughed lightly.

Sure she was blushing now, Hermione turned her attention back to the notes he had written but said in spite of herself, “Well, Harry would think it was great. He would think I might be able to convince you to talk to him.”

He barked out a laugh at that and added, “He’s been pestering me for weeks, the idiot boy.”

She nodded. “Ron would be furious and probably accuse you of…all sorts of things, and Ginny would want all the details,” she said rolling her eyes. “And Luna would think it was just wonderful and throw pixie dust in my face to make sure we didn’t have wrackspurts in our heads.”

He shook his head in utter bewilderment at the last comment she made as he gathered the crushed dragon scales. Hermione watched him add three at a time until the potion became quite a bit thicker. It essentially changed from being a potion to being a paste. Throwing caution to the wind, she asked, “Have you dated much, Professor?” Apparently Nyala’s comment about his love life was still gnawing away at her for some reason.

“Ah, no,” was all he answered never looking at her. “It’s ready to test, I believe,” he told her as he ladled some out into a short wide mouthed jar that looked much like a chewing tobacco tin. He walked over to a chair in his small dining area and turned it around, so the back was facing the table. 

Unsure what she was supposed to be doing, Hermione followed him and took a seat at the table. When he started unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt she stood up abruptly. He frowned at her, but she didn’t sit back down. “What are you doing?” she asked him nervously.

He stopped and replied, “I always test my potions on myself. I suppose I could pay someone to experiment on,” he shrugged, “but that seems a waste to me.”

“Oh. Um, right. Sorry,” she said sitting back down. She tried to avert her eyes as best she could, but she was keenly aware of more and more skin trying to grab her attention as the seconds ticked by. At least it’s him that’s taking his shirt off for this, she told herself. Determined to get over the awkwardness, Hermione asked, “Should I grab anything in case something goes wrong?”

While unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves enough to slip his arms out of them, he answered, “Perhaps a towel. They are through that door,” he said motioning to the door in the left front corner of the room. “The bathroom is on the other side of the room.”

Without hesitating, she made her way to what she was hoping was anything but his bedroom. She groaned quietly as she entered what was most definitely Professor Snape’s bedroom. His bed was large and had green sheets with a black comforter. The room was rather simple, and it struck her as odd that he didn’t have more in it. She quickly grabbed a towel and walked back toward kitchen trying not to think about the fact that she was likely holding a towel he had used to dry himself off with. Although it wasn’t exactly a disturbing thought, she didn’t want to think about it. 

Upon seeing him sitting backwards in the chair at his table shirtless while he waited for her, she dropped the towel at her feet. He was pale and lean, but what caught her off guard were the various scars across his back. Quickly picking up the towel, she walked over to him and set it on the table next to the bowl of water he had set out. 

“Here,” he said pushing the jar and a pair of latex gloves toward her. “You’ll have to do it. Start with a small one.” Folding his arms over the top of the back of the chair, he added, “We’ll give it a minute to see what it does before moving on.”

Hermione hesitated before taking the jar. It really was only logical that she apply it, but now that she was beside him, and could see the lean muscle and fine hairs on his chest, she felt it was almost too intimate. She would have to touch him; there wasn’t really a way around it. She wasn’t even sure how he would have done this alone. Perhaps he planned on having Madam Pomfrey assist him. “Okay,” she said taking the jar and unscrewing the lid. 

She walked behind him and scooped a dollop out with her fingers. Gently, she rubbed some cream into a small round scar up near his shoulder that may have come from a burn. “How does it feel?” she asked after letting it soak in.

“It doesn’t feel like anything,” he answered. 

“Oh, it seems to be smoothing out a bit,” she announced pleasantly surprised.

He nodded, “Good. Let’s test it on a larger one as well. Try the big one across the middle of my back.” 

He leaned forward more, and the muscles on his back flexed minutely causing Hermione to return to feeling uncomfortable. She started applying the cream again and decided to ask, “How did you get all of these?”

Professor Snape didn’t respond right away, and she regretting asking. It was none of her business. “Pretty much all of them are from my youth. Some of them are from former school mates but most are from my father; his belt buckle, a cigarette, whatever he had handy at the moment,” he said gruffly. Before Hermione could formulate a response to such an admission, he hissed unexpectedly. 

“What? What is it?” she asked concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The password is Latin for resilient heart.


	20. A New Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions regarding the time turner or timeline I will be more than happy to answer or discuss after the story is over, if you still have questions. It will come together at the end, so hopefully you won't. :)

“What? What is it?” Hermione asked concerned at the sound of his apparent pain. 

“I don’t know. It’s burning. Ahh,” he groaned. “And stinging. Something’s not right. Here,” he said picking up the towel and dipping the corner of it into the water. “Try to get it off as best you can,” he panted. “Quickly, please.” His posture was tense even though he was hunched over the chair. His back was turning redder by the second like a field of blooming lobelia cardinals.

Hermione took the wet end of the towel and began wiping the skin she had applied the cream to. Most of it had already soaked in. “Oh, god,” she breathed. “It’s starting to bleed,” she told him. Little pin sized holes were forming along the scars, and blood was beading up to the surface of each one.

“Where?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Everywhere I applied it!” she said trying to clean him up as quickly as possible. “Don’t worry. It’s not that bad. Well, it’s not good, but it’s not like gushing or any- Oh wow!” Professor Snape continued to hiss in discomfort as Hermione leaned over to get a better look at the small scar she rubbed the cream into first. “It looks like…it somehow crystallized under the skin and is now protruding through. It sort of looks like you fell on broken glass,” she told him. “I think I got everything that hadn’t already absorbed into your skin. I don’t know what to do about the rest, Sir.”

He leaned his head down against the table and let out a small growl to ease the pain. After several deep breaths, he conjured two medium sized mirrors. “Hold this up, so I can see it,” he told her as he handed her one of them. Hermione angled the mirror until he could have a look for himself. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath at the sight of his red, tattered skin and the small amount of blood that dripped down here and there. “Accio notes,” he said and grabbed the papers out of the air. He looked over them for a moment before swearing to himself.

“What is it?” Hermione asked. Clearly they had made a mistake somewhere along the line, and he figured out what it was likely to be.

“It must not have gotten hot enough to change the properties of the purple rose thorns. That would cause them to reform, poorly mind you, when heated a second time, such as within the body,” he explained with an irritated sigh. 

“At least we know you’re warm blooded,” she joked. 

“Very funny,” he huffed. “I’m afraid you are going to have to pick the solid pieces out with forceps.” Hermione grimaced as he conjured a pair of tweezers with a curved end. “I hope you don’t mind if I have a drink for this,” he grumbled as he summoned a half full bottle of fire whiskey. 

“Ah, no. Not at all,” Hermione scooted the other chair around behind him as he opened the bottle and took a drink from it. “This may take a while,” she admitted regretfully. He nodded and held the bottle over his shoulder. What the hell, she said to herself as she took the proffered whiskey. This was likely to take quite a while. After taking a drink, she handed it back to him and pulled the first thorn shard from his skin, apologizing as he flinched at the sensation.

Hermione and Professor Snape drank nearly half of what was left in the bottle of whiskey while she pulled each piece painfully from his skin. He seemed fairly sober, but it was definitely more that Hermione was used to drinking. Once she was done, she quickly washed out the towel in the sink and came back to clean off his back a second time. His skin was still tinted a reddish brown from the little droplets of blood she had wiped away. “Do you have any healing paste?” she asked him. She was fairly certain they could undo all the damage now that the thorn pieces were removed from his body.

“Yeah, in the bathroom,” he said as he stood and walked toward his room. 

As tipsy as she was, Hermione didn’t think twice about following Professor Snape into his bathroom through his bedroom. He opened the medicine cabinet and pulled out a small jar, which he opened before handing it to her. Hermione got to work rubbing it carefully into his back. She’d tossed the gloves on the table, and now she was touching his skin with hers for the first time. He was warm and hard under her fingertips. He let out a few more moans, but they were not the same as the ones he was making in the kitchen somehow. They made her feel quite funny. When she was almost done, she glanced up and saw him watching her in the mirror intently. Hermione felt trapped within his gaze for a few seconds but then averted her eyes. She finished rubbing the cream into his raw skin without looking back up at him.

Her turned around to face her and said, “Thank you.”

“Of course,” she replied and held the jar out to him while giving him a small smile. “Maybe in another two weeks you’ll be rid of those scars for good, and we’ll have a better reason to have a drink.” Hermione couldn’t imagine having childhood memories like that, but then again, she did have a few scars herself. The war was different though. It hadn’t been inside her home.

Professor Snape frowned slightly. “Actually, I’m making it for someone else,” he admitted. He clearly felt a bit awkward having said that. “I don’t have to look at mine much. Do I?” he smirked at her to change the tone of the conversation to one of humor.

For some inexplicable reason, Hermione had the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Truth be told, he looked uniquely sexy without a shirt on, and she regretted he’d had to wear one while he’d taught her all those years. Although, she probably wouldn’t have accomplished much in his classes if she’d been distracted by…by… Her thoughts were interrupted by Professor Snape leaning down and kissing her softly. Yes. It was a crying shame she had known him this long without having the pleasure of his…of his tongue! She had known it was sharp, but she never imagined it could be gentle and playful as well. It also apparently had the power of turning her inside to mush. Oh god! What were they doing? 

Hermione pulled away panting. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I don’t know what I was thinking, Maybe it’s the wine,” she apologized.

He looked down at her a little flush and breathless himself. “I’m pretty sure I kissed you, actually,” he told her with a raised eyebrow but an uncertain expression.

“Yeah. It must be the wine then. Er…I’m just going to go,” she muttered before leaving him standing in the bathroom alone. Hermione went straight into the living room to gather her coat. She really needed to get out of there. Confused and somewhat dizzy, she wondered if she could find Ginny. She was in no shape to apparate home apparently. 

Realizing she did not want to explain to Ginny why she was in such a state, she headed for the room of requirements.


	21. Hermione's White Flag

Hermione was not at all surprised that she didn’t hear from Professor Snape the following week. She figured he felt just as embarrassed as she did. What had she been thinking snogging Snape and in his bathroom, of all places? In retrospect, it was clear he had initiated the kiss, but she hadn’t pulled away. She had been fully engaged in the kiss, and she had loved it. She didn't have a lot of experience, but she knew it was the best kiss she had ever had. If someone had told her she would be kissing Snape one day, she would have laughed at them or maybe even hex them. Perhaps if they hadn’t been drinking, it wouldn’t have happened. But what if it had? Would she have rushed out of there like that, or would she have stayed? Would he have wanted her to stay? It was for the best that she not think anymore about the what ifs. 

On the second Monday seeing him last, Hermione received a letter while she was making dinner. The spiky hand writing was a dead giveaway, so she put it in her book to read later in the evening. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she wanted to read it. What could it possibly say that would make her feel less uncomfortable? Nothing, aside from ‘the whiskey was spiked with an insanity potion’ would make her feel better. Professor Snape had kissed her, and she had liked it. It had left her with a need stronger than she had ever felt before, but she wasn't going to admit that. The feeling in her gut wasn’t quite shame, but she couldn’t identify it. It was more along the lines of feeling guilty for having done something she wasn’t supposed to do but only kind of. Was halfhearted regret even a thing?

“Hermione,” Harry said when he walked into the kitchen. “Have you been meeting with Professor Snape?” He sat at the table and explained, “Ginny said you were working on a potion with him over the last few weeks.”

Cringing, Hermione plated the fish she had baked for the two of them and carried the dishes over to the table. “I was,” she said, emphasizing the past tense. Not wanting to answer any more questions, she didn’t offer him any further details.

“How come you didn’t tell me? I mean, it’s not like I would have a problem with it,” he said sadly. “I know you think I’ve gone a bit mad when it comes to him, but I just want to know more about my mum. All of her other fiends are gone, and I didn’t take advantage of asking them many questions while they were alive.” Harry looked down at his fish with blurry eyes.

With a big sigh, Hermione answered him honestly, “Well, thinking you were obsessed was only part of the reason I didn’t tell you. I didn’t really know what to make of it that he even asked me at first. I was curious and obviously couldn’t pass up the change to learn more from him.” She shook her head and told him, “And then Ginny made a comment that…well that I wouldn’t want anyone else to think, so I didn’t tell anyone at all after I talked to her and Luna about it.”

Harry’s brows pinched together, “What did she say?” 

After swallowing a bite of food, she reluctantly replied, “I was afraid you might think there was something more going on between us because, apparently, there could be no other reason for wanting to see him ever again.” Harry gawked at her. “That was Ginny's opinion, anyway. The thought that someone might think we were doing something other than brewing never crossed my mind until she mentioned it.” He nodded looking up to the ceiling before laughing historically. “Well, I’m glad you think it’s funny,” she snapped tersely. 

“Oh, come on, Hermione. You have to admit, that sounds completely paranoid. I never would have thought that. As for Ginny, well…” he said seriously all of the sudden, “I think we ought to have her see a doctor.” Hermione couldn’t help but laugh with him at that. “Hermione, you’re my best friend. You can date or not date whomever you want, and I’ll still be here.” When Hermione smiled at him and set her hand on his in a loving gesture, he added, “Even if it is Snape.” She batted playfully at him before going back to enjoying her dinner. 

Later that night, Hermione pulled the letter from Professor Snape out of her book and opened it. It read:

Miss Granger,  
I have restarted the potion this week with the temperature correction. If you would like to assist this weekend, you are more than welcome. The password to the grounds is amicus meus, and the password to my chambers is patientiam operatur. I apologize for making you uncomfortable last week. It was never my intention. I hope we can put it behind us, as I really do need someone to assist me in testing.  
Sincerely,  
Severus Snape

Hermione set the letter down feeling content. If he could get past what happened between them, so could she. She was an adult, after all. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hermione was relieved to see Professor Snape completely covered up when she arrived at his chambers to assist him with the second week of brewing. The awkwardness in the beginning dissipated as they moved through the steps of the second half of the process. The silly thought that maybe they could become friends passed through her mind more than once that afternoon. She agreed to meet him again the next weekend to test the potion again, but she still felt nervous about a possible repeat of the last time.  


Hermione sat down on Professor Snape’s couch and waited for him to come over with the new batch of scar tissue removal cream and a hand towel. After he set the items down on the coffee table, he sat and vanished his shirt without preamble. He picked up the cream, handed it to her alone with a pair of gloves, and said, “No thorn shards this time.”

“Turn around,” Hermione bossed wanting to distract him from her blush that was blossoming in her cheeks as she took the cream from him. Seeing him shirtless again reminded her why she hadn’t stopped him from kissing her. Her mind drifted back to standing in his bathroom with him while she smoothed the cream into his skin. “It looks like it is working. Shall I move on to the other one?” she asked looking at the spot on his back that used to have a small round, angry looking mark. 

“Yes,” he said. “Then we’ll wait a while longer, just to be sure.”

Hermione rubbed the cream over the large scar on his back that had looked quite a mess after she had tried this the first time. Once she was done, she went to the sink to throw away the gloves and wash her hands. Walking back to the couch, she asked, “So who did you make this for, anyway?”

He actually looked sad as he considered his answer. “No one. Everyone. You,” he shrugged.

“I don’t understand,” she told him, sitting back down next to him on the couch. 

“There are many people who have scars they don’t deserve to have to carry. Like the one you have on your chest,” he answered simply.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest self-consciously. “How do know about that?” she asked with unease evident in her voice. 

Professor Snape turned toward her on the couch and told her, “Because I’m the one who healed it." He looked from her eyes down to her hands in her lap and added,"The glamour on your arm is almost unnoticeable, but you shouldn't have to bother with that every day.”

Feeling confused and somewhat emotional, she looked away from him willing herself not to cry. His knees brushed hers as he came in front of her and sat on the coffee table to look at her squarely. “Please let me get rid of them for you,” he spoke softly as he took her hand. When she didn’t answer, he pushed up the sleeve of her sweater to the scar on her arm, removed the glamour, and reached for the jar of cream. 

Hermione sat there in a fog as she watched the ugly mark dissolve into healthy looking skin. “And the other one?” he asked, and she didn’t hesitate to pull her sweater over her head. Her shirt was cut low enough to access the scar Dolohov left for her by tugging it down a little. Just as Professor Snape rubbed the last of the cream into her skin, she leaned forward and captured his lips with hers. This time, she was sure she wanted to kiss him, and she didn’t want to wait around on him to take the risk again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The passwords are Latin for Friend of Mine and Perseverance.


	22. Say My Name

Professor Snape responded immediately, tangling his hand in her hair behind her left ear. His lips moved in sync with hers, and she broke away from the kiss as she felt him moved from the coffee table to the couch next to her. The imaginary barrier between her body and his was shattered with him coming so near, and she almost jumped up off the couch when he put his hand on her thigh. She didn’t though. As nervous as she was, she wanted to see what he would do next.

Hermione had rushed into bed with Ron thinking it would bring the spark back about a week after the war. She had been very wrong about that, and she hadn’t realized just how wrong until Snape had kissed her in his bathroom. More allure existed in Snape’s lips than in Ron’s entire body. While she hadn’t necessarily regretted losing her virginity, she felt like she had missed something. It was awkward and uncomfortable, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was because it was her first time or because it was with him. There was nothing uncomfortable about Professor Snape’s lips on her, though. Well, aside from the fact that they were attached to her former professor, chided a voice in the back of her mind who she then told to shove off. 

When she felt his hand slide up and across her stomach to rest on her waist, she slipped her tongue in his mouth. Turning toward him, she wasn’t expecting to feel his weight leaning on her, pressing her back down toward the couch. It was a welcome surprise, but it was a surprise, nonetheless. She had absolutely no intention of sleeping with Snape when she came here, but that had changed somehow. She reached up, grabbing handfuls of his hair as she encouraged him to continue kissing her the way he was, like he had been waiting forever to do so. 

Hermione panted, trying to catch her breath as he pushed himself up enough to use one knee to support his weight on the couch. She arched her back when he grabbed the hem of her shirt and then lifted her shoulders, allowing him to remove the simple garment. He leaned back down to her, kissing her neck as one of his hands caressed up the side of her waist and settled over her right breast as if it were something he knew he was allowed to touch, something that he already had possession of. He showed no hesitation, and she suddenly felt insecure about her one brief experience with physical intimacy. His confidence unnerved her and made her worry she was inept. His lips came back up to hers. “Profess-” she breathed into his lips, trying to get him to slow down.

“Severus,” he said against her slightly parted mouth. 

Hermione put her hands on his shoulders and pushed gently as she said, “Severus, wait.”

He sat up abruptly and looked down at her with worry evident in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry. I thought you…” He shook his head as he moved to sit back down properly while Hermione pulled her legs up and out of his way. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…” 

He looked as though he felt badly, and it was not what she would have expected from him. “No. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she replied. “It’s just that I…I haven’t much experience and…I want to, I just want…slower,” she finally got out of her jumbled thoughts.

“Oh,” he looked at her in surprise. “It hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Is that really so surprising?” she asks feeling unsure of herself again. She didn’t know if she should be offended or flattered. 

He shook his head adamantly. “No! Not at all. I just…I don’t know what I was thinking,” he admitted, looking as confused as she felt. 

Not wanting this to kill the mood, Hermione scooted closer and took his hand. “Why don’t you show me your room?” she asks not looking up at him. “That would be slower. And it also would not be on the couch, so that’s better as well.”

“I can do that,” he said raising an eyebrow at her babbling. Severus stood and took her by the hand to help her up from the couch. He led her to the door on the far side of the room and said, “I have to warn you. There’s nothing interesting about my room. No rafters to hang from or anything else unusual.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as he gave her a small smile and pushed the door open. He wasn’t lying; it was a simple room with not much to look at but the bed. Severus led her over to the window on the side of the room.

“Look,” he whispered. Hermione walked up to his side and gazed out expecting not to see anything but the glowing green light of the black lake. Her mouth fell open as she watched a pair of freshwater seahorses in their mating dance. Their pink color stood out in the murky water. “They look like they are kissing,” she commented.

“Mhmm,” he hummed over her shoulder. “They mate for life, unlike many fish.” Severus dipped his head down to place a kiss on the top of her exposed shoulder near the base of her neck. 

Turning to face him, she found his lips with hers again and backed him slowly toward the bed. When he sat, she let her hands wander over his chest and torso, exploring the new territory. Hermione appreciated that he continued to kiss her, allowing her to set the pace. Working their way down, her hands came into contact with the waist of his trousers. He made an indiscernible noise as she worked the top button loose. The second button was near enough to brush against his apparent approval of the lead she was taking. Hermione couldn’t help but blush as she bit her lip thinking about having Severus Snape naked and at her disposal. 

Reaching around her back, she unhooked her bra and let it fall away from her. Severus continued to look into her eyes as he reached out to her stomach. Unable to withstand his intense gaze any longer, she stepped closer to stand between his legs, leaving his mouth very near her exposed breasts. Her eyes closed in bliss as he drew one nipple into his mouth. Stepping away from him again, she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs before climbing up into the bed next to him.

Never slow to catch on, Severus freed himself of his trousers and scooted up the bed to lie next to her, propping himself up with his elbow. Not wanting to wait any longer, Hermione reached down and stroked him through his black briefs. Severus groaned and rolled over to be more on top of her. His hand wandered her body as he kissed her. She grabbed his hand and led it downward after a few minutes of his teasing and escorted it into her damp panties. Ron had not touched her this way. It had been a quick missionary style affair that left her unsatisfied. 

His skillful fingers manipulated her stiffened bud until she had her claws digging into his forearm, her legs pinching his hand between them, and was uttering incoherently. Or, at least, she thought she was. Coming down for the high, she allowed him to kiss her gently while turning her onto her side. The angle was somewhat awkward, kissing him over her shoulder, but when she felt his erection pressing into her cheeks, she abandoned his lips to pull her panties down. He shifted in the bed behind her, indicating he was doing the same. 

His body came back to hers and the heat of it, all of his body, pressed snuggly against her, was enough to make her whimper. She reached back, grabbing a delicious handful of this ass, but he moved her top leg forward to bend at the knee. The stretch was a little too much, so she put her arm on the bed in front of her. The feeling of his member moving, stroking her cheeks until it was nestled perfectly at her entrance made her forget how much she wanted to enjoy grabbing his ass. 

He wiggled his other arm under her neck and brought it down to cup one of her breasts and tease its nipple. The hand on leg grabbed her thigh gently, lifting it to help give him the right angle to push into her.

Hermione moaned as she felt him entering her, and she could fee his shallow breath on her neck. Severus lifted her leg more and brought it back, setting it over his leg leaving her legs spread open. Slowly, he thrust into her further and further until he was inside her all the way. She panted and praised him as he carried on with a slow but forceful rhythm. When his free hand came over her hip and settled between her legs to return to attending to her clit, she shifted, so she was slightly on her back.

Kissing her passionately, he quickened his pace with his thrusting and his fingers. After a few minutes of being handled that way, Hermione felt herself starting to pulse again. Her walls grabbed on to him, fluttering over and over as they milked him. Hermione could have sworn he’d whimpered her name against her lips. The memory of him calling her by her given name in the hospital came back into her mind. She wasn't sure what to think of it, other than wanting to hear him say it again. Eventually, he slid out from inside her and melted down into the mattress on his back. 

Hermione turned toward him and lay there quietly while he rested his hand on her thigh. She had not had an orgasm when she slept with Ron, and part of her had not expected to with him. She blushed and tried to stifle a giggle. 

He opened one eye and asked, “What’s so funny?” 

“I think I really like position,” she said blushing.

Quietly he replied, “You always have.”

“What?” she asked incredulously. 

“Hum?” he responded as if he hadn’t heard her.

“What do you mean I always have?” she sat up straight. “When exactly is always?”

He sat up in the bed and shook his head, “I…um…you always have loved undivided attention” he said without conviction. 

“That doesn’t even make sense,” she told him as she got out of bed and picked up her underwear. Yanking them back on, she said, “I knew something seemed…I don’t know what exactly. I thought your sudden interest in me was odd. Why the change of heart, Professor? Tell me what’s going on!” she demanded hooking her bra back together.


	23. Severus' Secret

Severus opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. “Fine, I’m leaving,” she said as she shoved her legs into her jeans. Without buttoning them, she stalked back into the living area to retrieve her shirt.

“Hermione, wait,” he called to her, but she ignored him. “Wait, Please!” he said again from the doorway, the sheet loosely wrapped around his middle.

“Tell me what’s going on, or I’m out of here!” she snapped as she pulled her head through the neck hole of her shirt and sat down to put her shoes on.

“Okay, okay,” he said holding his hand out. “Just, please, give me a moment,” he begged as she tied her laces.

“Fine,” she replied. “But hurry up.” If she wasn’t so upset, she would have appreciated a naked, begging Snape.

Severus came back into the living are in just a few moments dressed in his trousers, and he appeared to have a letter in his hand. He sat down on the couch next to her and stared at the envelope. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how or when would be the right time if there ever was one,” he said quietly. “I was released from St. Mungo’s a little while after the war under the stipulation I remain in Poppy’s care. It was over two months before she cleared me to come and go when I pleased. That was the day I saw you in the Ministry. You didn't say anything to me, so I followed you into the bookstore a few days later,” he told her.

“Okay. What does that have to do with anything?” she said impatiently.

He took a deep breath. “That’s when I returned to my home in Spinner’s End. After I saw you, I just wanted to be alone for a while. I found this in my sock drawer the next day,” he said looking down at the envelope with his name neatly printed on it.

Hermione glanced down and looked at it for a few more seconds. It looked like her handwriting, but that wasn’t possible. Severus pulled the letter out of the envelope and handed the pages to her. She took them and looked at him skeptically. This had better be good, she thought.

“Just read it, and then I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said looking like a desperate man. She sat back and started to read the letter.

_Severus,_

_If you are reading this, thank god you are alive! I trust you’ve gathered by now, that the potions I kept hounding you about were for you; they were to save you from a death you did not deserve. I know there are consequences to suffer for changing history, but I couldn’t allow myself think about it until now, while I sit here in your home and wait for you to return to me._

_You died, Severus. You died, and I could’t tell you. That is why I was in your room that night. I was cleaning out your things for Minerva. If I was successful, and you are reading this, my past will have changed. It is possible that, in saving you, I would be delayed enough not to make it to the headmaster’s office before the boy started to walk back to the Great Hall, which would mean that Dumbledore would not have give me the time turner. I don’t know for sure, but it almost doesn’t even matter because there is another problem. Even if Dumbledore gave me the time turner (again), I would not have been in your room on the night that I came to you from the future. With you alive, I had no reason to be in your rooms cleaning them out._

_I’m so worried, Severus. If I am able to keep you alive, I fear the cost will be high. In fact, I know it will be. If the original Hermione doesn’t come back to be with you throughout the end of the war, she will have no memory of it, as it will not have happened in her past. She-I will not remember this time we’ve spend together. I will do everything I can to keep you here, Severus, but it will be at the cost of the time we will have spent together, for me at least. It will cost me my memory of it, of you. I believe you should remember everything, as it will all be in your past already. I will already be a memory for you, which should remain._

_I pray that makes sense. The thought of it kills me, but what am I to do? Let you die? I don’t know what will happen between us over the next year, but I hope you will find me when this is all over. I want to remember you, Severus, regardless of what happens. The box has phials of several of my memories of what has happened thus far. They should help me to understand what has happened and why I can’t remember something that you do. I don’t expect to return to Spinner’s End, so you will have to show her/me what happens from this point onward. Start with the one in the back left corner._

_Hermione_

_5/26/97_

Hermione set the letter down on the coffee table. It couldn’t be possible. “This doesn’t make any sense. Dumbledore sent me those potions,” she said shaking her head. “What am I supposed to think about all of this?” she asked turning toward him. “This is absolutely crazy,” she said as she stood from the couch

“Please, sit,” he said grabbing her hand. “I know. I know it’s a lot, but…I can show you. I can show you why…why I acted the way I did in the bookstore. I was devastated, Hermione. I hadn’t seen this letter yet. I didn’t know this would happen. I thought-,” he said with a shaky voice that made her sit back down and look at him thoughtfully.

No, no. This couldn’t possibly be, she said to herself. Feeling frustration bubble up again, she demanded, “I want to see them, then. Where are they? My supposed memories?” She folded her arms over her chest.

“I have them. I do, just let me get them,” he said standing. He left the room and quickly returned with a small box and a worn down pensive. He set them on the coffee table and asked her, “Would you prefer I go with you?”

She shook her head but quickly changed her mind as she realized she didn’t want to be left that vulnerable because something funny was certainly going on. Severus picked up a small phial and dumped the contents out. Hermione went in after him.


	24. Memories From Another Time(line)

He picked up a small phial and dumped the contents out. Hermione went in after him. 

Hermione was standing in the Shrieking Shack with Severus, watching Harry, Ron, and herself watch Severus take his last breath before going up to the headmaster’s office. Dumbledore’s portrait told her where to find a broken time turner he had hidden away in a globe. She saw herself standing with Harry and Ron at the memorial service after the war. His name was on one of the caskets, and she was crying while Ron held her tight with one arm around her. All three of them looked remorseful. The scene changed around her again and Ron was telling her he could clean out Snape’s rooms for her, the he wouldn’t tell anyone if she wanted to change her mind. The next thing she knew she was sitting on the floor of Severus’ bedroom with Snape and Dumbledore. As she listened to herself tell Dumbledore off, she covered her mouth with her hand, shocked by her own lecture. Hermione looked to Severus, but he stood there patiently waiting for her. Apparently, he had no wish to see these memories again, if they really were that. 

They came out of the memory together, and Severus waited for her to say something, but she didn't. “Would you like to see the next one?” he asked cautiously. She nodded after a moment.

Hermione saw herself asking about Nagini and how Arthur survived his attack. Professor Snape caught her with a potion she’d taken of his shortly thereafter. He had her pinned to the ground and was kissing her. Was she watching their first kiss, she wondered. While it was sweeter than what had happened in is bathroom, it didn’t feel real. She couldn’t believe she wouldn’t remember this. They sat in companionable silence while grading papers. He rejected her plea for the potions again. She watched as they grew to be more and more comfortable around each other. Tears prickled at her eyes as she listened to the story about the potions accident in his youth. She knew, from the evidence on his back, that his father had been a monster, but listening to a story about the boy who lived through it all was too much. 

Hermione sat on the couch quietly still, while trying to think of how one might fabricate memories. Harry had told her how odd the one Slughorn gave him was, and this seemed nothing like that. Nothing seemed amiss, aside from her having no recollection of it all.

The third phial was the most shocking. They were kissing on the couch, and he ran off for the second time, leaving her bereft again. It was so unlike how sure of himself he had been while they brewed together to create the scar removal cream. Hermione hated to admit that this odd version of how they became close was more plausible than what had happened between them recently. He had come back to the room worried about what Dumbledore had asked him to do, and she led him into his bedroom where she took him in her mouth. Hermione looked back over her shoulder at Snape to see him staring at the ground, as if to give her privacy while she watched them have sex for the first time. What the hell, she thought. She had not done that with Severus. Yet here she was watching it happen. It was absolutely mindboggling. She couldn’t help but feel sad at how gentle he was with her. She had missed this somehow, and it felt horrible. 

Hermione viewed the last phial alone, trusting that he wasn’t going to turn into some madman if she left him behind. Severus took her to his home and gave her the potions she’d been asking for. She was elated, and he had no idea they were for him. After she kissed him goodbye, she conjured the phials for her memories and selected which would be most helpful. She wrote a letter to herself signing Dumbledore’s name to it. Hermione watched herself cry as the owl flew away, supposedly sealing her own fate of sacrificing her memories. 

Hermione pulled out of the pensive and sat quietly trying to process it all. A few minutes passed, and she asked, “So no one knows about this? Other than you now that Dumbledore’s gone?” He nodded and shifted his weight to angle his body toward her on the couch. “If this,” she said waving her hand at the pensive, “is all true, why didn’t you tell me before?” she looked at him squarely. “According to your…evidence,” she picking up the letter she had apparently written him, “I wanted to know all of this, to remember. I wanted you to tell me. Yet, you didn’t.” Hermione sounded more sad than angry, but most of all confused.

Severus tried to explain,“ I was worried that…this wasn’t what you really wanted. I thought perhaps you only wanted me because I was the only person you saw for a over a year. I worried you had some sort of Stockholm Syndrome or something.” He shook his head. “I wanted to be sure before I went and made a mess of everything. I didn’t want to make a mess of your life; I just wanted you to be happy.”

“So you…you what? Was this your way of starting over or something? You thought you would start some sort of relationship with me, knowing all of this, while I had no idea?” He didn’t respond to that. He looked across the room ashamed, and she said, “I need to go.” 

He stood up with her not wanting her to run. “Please, Hermione. There’s more. There’s so much more you haven’t seen yet,” he told her. "You were with me, here, while I was the headmaster. You were with me the whole time," he said with something akin to sadness in his voice. 

“And you think that makes it better?” she ask quietly, feeling lost and strangely hurt. “It’s a lot. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know if I even believe it. I just need to go.” 

He nodded and stepped out of her way. “I know it’s a lot. I’m sorry.” Just as she reached for the door, he asked “Will you be back?” 

“I don’t know,” she said reluctantly with a faraway look in her eyes.

“Well..,” he started. Severus seemed to struggle with his emotions suddenly, which really threw her. “I-I never told you because I didn’t know what was going to happen between us or with the war, but- I,” he said balling his hands into fists at his sides, “was in love with you- am in love with you,” he quickly corrected himself.

Hermione took a deep breath and stood there looking at him in shock. She didn’t know what to say to that. What could she say? Yes, she had come to fancy him but love? She had only just five minutes ago found out they had been together for a year. It was too much. “I have to go. I’m sorry, Severus,” she responded. 

Severus stood there looking like a kicked puppy as she walked out of his chambers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Severus is so bad at relationships. Why did he have to freak her out with the whole love thing, as if everything else wasn't already enough?


	25. The Prince's Tale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, but it had to be. Hopefully you won't have any more plot questions after this one. The password is Latin for Lonely Sorrow. The memories are separated by a squiggly line, just to keep it simple. I couldn't be more excited to share Severus' story with all of you. Hope you enjoy it!

Professor Snape was in love with her. Hermione couldn’t wrap her mind around it. She had felt like something was off since Ginny made her stupid comment, but not this off. After she chalked it up to paranoia, she hadn’t looked back. Hermione tried to run through everything in her mind. First there was the Ministry, which nothing unusual happened there. Then there was the bookstore, which was slightly odd, but he’d said he wasn’t feeling well. 

The exchange between them when Minerva had invited her for lunch had been very strange. He had approached her casually and had complimented her, even. There may have been some subtle flirting while they brewed together, but she supposed she overlooked that in objection to Ginny’s theory. Had she not, she would have been more suspicious. It would be nonsensical for Snape to go from hating her one minute to tying to seduce her the next minute. 

After much thought, Hermione came to the conclusion that the whole thing was entirely possible. Dumbledore may have given her a time turner to keep protected, seeing as how he had trusted her with one before. Drinking in Snape’s chambers and messing around with a time turner though? She wasn’t sure about that, but if it had happened, his death had shaken her more than she would have thought. Now that she thought of what it would have been like, had he died in front of her eyes…well she didn’t want to think about it. 

That’s how she supposedly ended up in the past, trapped in his rooms not wanting to risk losing the war. She could certainly see trying to save him. Stupid as it was to take that risk, she would have done it. Where did that leave her, if it was all true? What now? Does she carry on an affair with her former professor? What would she tell her friends? Well, they wouldn’t have to know about the past, but they would eventually figure out she was seeing him for more than brewing. Why hadn’t she thought of this before she slept with him? Did she really think she could have some wild tryst and move on, just like that? It had been perfect too, like he knew what she would like. Perfect. Hermione rubbed her eyes and wondered, does she want him in spite of the whole mess? Is she going to hold on to that perfect connection, even though how it came to be was a complicated magical accident that she couldn’t even remember?

And what if it is a lie? She couldn’t figure out what purpose that would serve, but she still felt like she needed concrete proof. She was Hermione Granger, after all. She wanted physical, tangible evidence not just some memories and a few reassuring words. Having made up her mind, she penned a letter to Minerva.

The following Saturday, Hermione arrived at Hogwarts an hour early for her tea date with Minerva. Once through the entrance of the school, she glanced around before taking a turn down toward the dungeons. The walk was long and quiet. There was nothing to distract her from her thoughts, her worries. There was a decent chance that this was not going to work out the way she hoped it would. 

“You have some nerve coming here,” Nyala sneered. “Severus has been moping around for two weeks because of you.” She looked Hermione up and down with distain. “Broke the poor bastard’s heart, you did!” 

Hermione frowned at the information and told her, “I feel badly about that. I really do. Please, let me in, so I can talk to him, Nyala.” When the woman crossed her arms defiantly, Hermione said “You know he would want you to let me in.” 

“No password. No admittance,” Nyala stood her ground. 

Defeated, she asked, “Will you at least tell him I was here?”

“There will be no need for that,” a silky voice behind her said. 

Hermione turned to see Severus standing in the hallway with a stack of parchments. “Severus,” she said softly. “I hope it’s not a bad time. I just wanted to….” She looked back at Nyala and asked, “Would you mind if we talked inside?”

“Of course not,” he replied. “Sola dolorem.” Nyala huffed as she allowed them in together. He set the parchments down on the desk and moved to sit on the couch. 

Hermione followed him and sat down on the other end of the couch still feeling somewhat uncomfortable. “I would have written you, but I thought it was best to come here in person. I’m sorry if I hurt you, Severus. This is all very confusing,” she told him while looking at her hands in her lap.

“Thank you for coming back. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.” Severus responded sincerely. “You have nothing to apologize to me for. You saved my life, and made the worst of it bearable.”

“I came here to have tea with Minerva,” she declared. He looked slightly disappointed, so she continued quickly. “I plan on returning here afterwards, if that’s okay with you.” He nodded. “I want proof of this before I subject myself to your memories.”

Severus furrowed his brow and replied, “The letter and your memories are all I have. I’m afraid I can’t give you anything else.”

Hermione shook her head. “I’m going to go up to Minerva’s office. At four o’clock, I want you to call her away for at least fifteen minutes. Make up whatever reason you’d like. I just need a little bit of time.”

“I don’t understand,” he started, but then asked, “What are you going to do with it? It’s what got us into this mess. You can’t trust that something isn’t going to go very wrong.” He was clearly worried about her plan.

“If I find what I’m looking for, I’ll vanish it, and it will never be a problem again,” she explained. She would have no argument from him about her decision. It was this or nothing. 

He leaned back against the couch and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he agreed. Hermione watched him summon his pensive and allowed herself to hope it was because he knew she was going to find the time turner where Dumbledore had left it. 

Shortly after, Hermione left and headed toward the Headmistress’s office. She felt sick. While she wanted it all to be true, that would mean that she had missed a significant part of her life. She would feel robbed. Was this how people with amnesia felt? 

“It’s so good to see you, Hermione,” Minerva said as she stood from her desk, walked around it, and embraced the younger witch. “Please have a seat. I just had the tea brought up for us.”

Nearly a half an hour later, their conversation was interrupted. “Headmistress?” Severus’ silky voice came from the left side of the room.

“Severus,” Minerva said standing and walking over toward the floo. “Now’s not the best time. I have company. Can it wait a while longer?”

Severus shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Hagrid left the grounds for the weekend. I thought I’d have a look in to see after fluffy for him, but he’s gone.”

“Fluffy? The three headed dog?” she asked. Both her and Hermione’s eyebrows shot up when he nodded. “Well surely he couldn’t have gone far. Someone would have seen the beast.”

“My thoughts as well, but I can’t find him. Perhaps we should search for him now before a student finds him first, unless, of course, you’d like to thin the roster out,” Severus suggested.

Minerva nodded, “I’ll be right there. Give me just a moment, please. I’ll come through the floo.”

“Yes, Headmistress. I’m in the room next to the charms classroom on the third floor,” he informed before disappearing.

“Miss Granger, I’m terribly sorry. You can go, if you’d like, and we can chat another time,” she offered.

Hermione shook her head. “No. It’s quite alright. I’ll wait. I’ve been dying to get your opinion on the latest transfigurations journal.”

“Of course, dear. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she informed her while walking over to the fireplace and grabbing and handful of floo powder. 

Finally alone in the Headmistress’s office, Hermione jumped up and ran over to the study off to the right. Her heart stopped when she saw there was no globe standing where Dumbledore had it. After several minutes of searching, she was at a loss. It wasn’t in any of the rooms connected to the office. Shit! “Professor Dumbledore?” she called as she walked up to his sleeping portrait. 

He seemed startled, but looked down at her with a sleepy smile. “Miss Granger,” he said, “how very nice to see you.”

“Yes, and you as well, Sir. Might I ask you where Minerva moved your globe to?” she asked trying not to sound desperate.

“Oh,” he swatted the air in front of him. “She said it was an eye sore. Threw it in the closet over there.” 

“I see. Thank you, Sir,” she said and hurried over toward the closet which was jammed packed with junk. She heard Dumbledore talking but couldn’t make out what he was saying with her head buried in the rubble. Grabbing hold of the globe, she pulled it out, things falling to the ground around her. Using a quick spell, the clutter flew back into the closet in a messy heap.

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore said firmly. “I demand to know what you think you are doing.”

She tuned to him in irritation. “From what I understand, this is entirely your fault,” she told him. Hermione turned the globe counter clockwise twice, then clockwise. “Denude,” she whispered as she placed her wand tip to the correct city.

“I must have shown you that…” Dumbedore’s portrait said. “What happened? Miss Granger!” he demanded.

Hermione fumbled with the gold string of the pouch and three pieces of a broken time turner fell into her hand. She closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. Dumbledore was shouting at her again trying to get her attention. “Not now, Sir. I will have to tell you about it later. Right now, I have to destroy this thing before it creates any more chaos.”

Dumbledore opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione vanished the pieces before his eyes. “I hope that was truly necessary. It was the only one left in existence,” he lectured. 

“It was necessary,” she defended herself as she crammed the globe stand back into the closet. Hermione just made it back in her seat when Minerva stepped into the room looking exasperated. “Did you find him?” Hermione asked as if she had not just been going through the Headmistress’ office. 

She let out a huff, “Yes. Beats the devil out of me how he got out in the first place. I’m going to have to have a talk with Hagrid about it. I don’t know how, but he made his way into one of the abandoned classrooms on the fourth floor. He shouldn’t even have fit through the door! We had to shrink him down to get him out, and even then, he nearly took off one of Severus’ fingers.” Minerva shook her head.

Hermione tried not to laugh. She felt badly that Hagrid was going to get a talking to about it, but what could she do about it? She’d have to send him some fresh cookies or something. The minutes ticked by as slowly as they could while they discussed the application of protective spells in transfiguration. 

Thirty minutes later, she found herself outside of Snape’s quarters once again. 

“You’re back.” Nyala announced with a scowl. “You’re lucky Severus told me you would be, or you’d be left out here in the hall all night.” After the jab, she let Hermione enter.

“You set Fluffy loose in the castle? Are you insane? Someone could have been hurt,” she scolded him.

Severus, who had been sitting quietly on the couch, chuckled at that. “I moved him to an abandoned classroom. He was never free to roam about,” he explained. “After my first run-in with the beast, I started shrinking him when I had to deal with him. He’s not so scary three inches tall.” She gave him a slightly less disapproving look. “I made tea, if you’d like some. I’ve already placed everything I could think of in the pensive for you.”

She was nervous. She didn’t know what to expect, but she hoped that it would somehow make things easier. She had come to like Severus. She really did, but this whole mess had the potential to blow up in their faces. What if she didn’t like what she saw? How was she going to let him down gently? What if she did, though? Would she be devastated that she couldn’t remember?

“I appreciate you letting me share these with you,” he told her. “I can’t image what this must be like for you. I wouldn’t blame you if you thought I was mad.” He sighed and sat back on the couch. “If it’s alright with you, I’d rather not join you,” he said motioning to his memories. 

Hermione nodded understanding his lack of desire to reminisce when he didn’t know what was going to happen between them. After a few calming breaths, she took the plunge. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hermione followed Severus as he lowered the wards to a house in a rundown neighborhood and came in through the front door. He made his way to the kitchen, and heavy footsteps quickly descended the stairs. He opened the cupboard and pulled out a mug and a box of tea. Suddenly, he was thrust into the counter as Hermione’s arms wrapped tightly around him. At first he looked surprised, but he relaxed into her touch within seconds.

“I’ve been so worried for you,” she told him as she let go, and he turned to face her. He looked exhausted, and his eyes were watery and somewhat red. Hermione threw her arms around his neck, and this time he hugged her back, melting into her comfort. “I’m so sorry,” she told him. “It’s going to be okay, though. It’s over. I’m so proud of you.”

He let go of her and turned back to making himself a drink. “How is it going to be okay? Nothing about any of this is okay, Hermione.” 

She followed him to the couch with his tea and sat next to him with her feet tucked up under her. Hermione reached out to take his hand forgoing meaningless words of reassurance. He closed his eyes and let her kiss his fingertips and palm. Severus set down his tea, pulled her into his lap, and held her against his chest until everything went black. He opened his eyes, and she was fast asleep lying on his chest with her legs between his. Stroking her hair, he stared down at her for a while before falling back asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hermione crawled over Severus into his bed and slid under the covers. Severus laid there, hands under his head staring at the ceiling, as if completely unbothered by her. She squirmed and struggled under the sheets, but he seemed to remain undisturbed by it. Hermione lifted the sheets up a bit and snuggled in against his chest. He looked down at her in surprise when her bare skin toughed his. Putting her hand on his stomach, she leaned over to kiss him gently, watching his reaction. He seemed unsure at first, but quickly took over the kiss and turned her onto her back. After a few minutes of heated kissing, she said, “Please. I want you, Severus.” 

Hermione was very thankful Severus had not followed her to watch this because it had been uncomfortable enough the first time they watched themselves having sex. 

To her surprise, Severus kicked his pants off under the covers and took her roughly. The first time they had slept together, she had been on top, had been in control. This time, he was fucking her. There was no question about it. And she sure seemed to be enjoying it. His long, firm thrusts had her moaning into his mouth, her nails scratching down his back. His scarred back. 

When they were done, she’d asked him about the marks on his back. He reluctantly lay down on his stomach, so she could see them all more easily. He almost looked in pain as Hermione kissed several of them while rubbing his skin soothingly. She had apparently not seen them before that night. It was a stark contrast to the afternoon he had removed his shirt to test the scar removal cream. Perhaps that’s why he seemed so nonchalant about it all. He was used to her looking at him, even if she wasn’t. He knew she wouldn’t judge him for any of the imperfections. 

“Severus?” she asked laying in bed next to him after she had caught her breath. “Will you read to me?” He looked at her oddly, but obliged and read to her from an obscure book he’d summoned until she was fast asleep. He lay awake for some time after just watching her steady breathing while he twirled a stray curl that had fallen over her shoulder. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Severus stretched his stiff muscles and reached over to find Hermione’s spot on the bed empty. He looked up as she walked into the room with a tray and a bright, beaming smile. 

“I made breakfast,” she announced, clearly proud of herself. 

“I see that,” he rumbled, eyes still half closed. 

She set it down next to him on the bed and said, “I hope you like your bacon crispy. I let it cook a bit longer than I think I was supposed to.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” he gave her a small smile before inspecting her questionable cooking skills. “No one’s ever made me breakfast in bed before,” he admitted.

“Well, now someone has. I was hoping you would go to the market today for some groceries,” she said as he took a sip of coffee.

“I just went two days ago,” he reminded her. 

“I know, but I fancy baking cookies, and you don’t have flour or sugar, and I just used the last of the eggs,” she pouted.

He had to try hard not to laugh at her. “What’s in it for me?” he asked playfully. 

“Cookies,” she answered immediately. “And maybe a little something else if you bring back take-away from that Chinese place we had last week,” she added.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he grumbled. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Severus came home to a house filled with smoke after a meeting with the dark lord to discuss the upcoming announcement of him being appointed headmaster. “Hermione?” he asked waving a hand around to clear some of the smoke as he coughed his way through the living room.

“Yes? Sorry! I’m in here. Sorry. I forgot about the last sheet of cookies, and before I knew it, there was smoke everywhere. He cleared the air in the kitchen and living room with his wand, but the smell of burnt cookies lingered. 

“And what were you doing that you didn’t notice that horrid smell?” he asked, clearly impressed with her ability to block the most obvious of things out.

She fiddled with the hem of her shirt, “Reading.” The look she gave him was pathetic.

Did she really look like that when she was worried about disappointing someone? No wonder he’d thought her annoying when she was eleven. Hermione watched as he rolled his eyes, leaned down to kiss her, and muttered, “Of course. What else could it have been?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“He killed Charity Burbage tonight,” he told her solemnly as he climbed into bed next to her.

“The Muggle studies teacher?” she exclaimed covering her mouth. “We knew she disappeared, but we all hoped she had run off somewhere to hide. I really liked her,” she said sadly.

“So did I,” he said pulling her to his chest. “I’m sorry.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Oh, yeah!” she said looking at the paper. Severus was pouring a cup of tea. “I almost forgot I was put on that stupid registration thing.”

“Pardon?” he asked walking over to her. Taking the paper out of her hand, he had a worried look on his face. He read that Hermione was wanted for questioning. “I suppose I should have expected this, but it’s not good.”

“Well, I’m here with you, so you know it will work out in the end,” she offered him a smile in reassurance. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione sat between Severus’ legs leaning against his bare chest with bubbles up to her chin. The smell of lavender and vanilla permeated the small bathroom. Severus let out a pained sigh as she dragged the washcloth up one of her arms. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“I can’t help but feel guilty about…,” he stopped, apparently unsure of himself.

“About what, Severus?” she prodded him. 

He shook his head and told her, “With everything that’s going on, and all that everyone else is having to deal with, I’m sitting here in bath with you. It just feels like a privilege I haven’t earned.” 

“Well, I already have lived through this war, Severus Snape, and I have earned it. Quit being a self centered. It’s not about you. It’s about me,” she teased him as she guided his free hand up to her breast. “And this is exactly what I want.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“It’s official,” he declared, tossing the paper on the couch next to her.

Hermione glanced down at the article announcing he was appointed the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. She sighed. “I know how much you don’t want to do this, Severus, but there is no one better to protect an entire school full of students.”

“And that’s exactly the problem, Hermione. I’m responsible for the entire student body at the worst possible moment in history to be in such a position. Do you not understand the responsibility of it? How am I supposed to keep tabs on five hundred hooligans while trying to undermine the dark lord?” he asked nearly shouting at her.

She folded the paper and set it on the coffee table. “First of all, you are not going to be alone. The other teachers will look after the students, even if they don’t trust you. Secondly, someone has to do it. Who do you think he’d put up as Headmaster, if not you?” He shook his head. “Malfoy?” Severus sneered at that. “Greyback? He has an endless line of psychotic followers. Any of them would be a nightmare, and some a guaranteed bloodbath.”

He flopped down next to her and rubbed his face with his hands. “I know. I just wish it didn’t have to be this way.”

She leaned over and rubbed his back. “I know you are capable of this, and I’ll be with you the whole time.”

He looked up at her with a feigned look of displeasure. “Are you telling me, on top of all of that, I have to hide Potter’s best-friend-from-the-future in my bedroom the entire time, hoping no one finds out she exists?”

“So you plan on keeping me in the bedroom. Do you?” she laughed.

“Where else would I keep you?” He smirked, “I could have you under my desk, if you think that’s better.”

Both Hermiones gave him scandalized looks while a blush crept into their cheeks. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“What were you thinking carrying around Black’s portrait?” he snapped as soon as he walked in to the headmaster’s living quarters. 

“It worked out for the best, so there’s no need to lecture me,” she said in a bored tone. It was obvious he had words for her every time the other Hermione did anything or was spotted by the other side. “It will be vital when it comes time for you to get the sword of Gryffindor to Harry,” she said. He looked irritated still. “So you’re welcome,” she added before turning a page in the book she was reading. Hermione shook her head and smiled as he huffed out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Where have you been?” she asked as he came in very late one evening.

“Malfoy Manor,” he answered. “I got word you were there. You were caught by snatchers, and you were being held prisoner for the dark lord.” He said gravely. “You lot had escaped before I was able to get there.”

Hermione looked surprised. She had no idea he had tried to get to them that night. “Well, it’s a good thing then. Otherwise your cover might have been blown.”

“You think?” he remarked quietly, anger evident in his tone. “That’s when you got that,” he asked pointing to her arm. “Isn’t it? Who did it? Was it Lucius?” he hissed. His eyes were full of fury. 

“No. And you have to let it go. At least for now,” she told him. He didn’t say anything else before going into the bathroom. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Severus was sitting at the table when she walked in still wearing her pajamas. He was leaning over the morning paper with his head in his hands.

“Morning,” she yawned as she went for a cup of tea.

“You and your moronic friends are going to get yourselves killed,” he hissed. “What possessed you to break into Gringotts, of all places, and escape on a dragon, of all things?”

She started to pour her tea and answered, “The- Oh. I actually can’t tell you that.” 

“You can’t tell me?” he asked incredulously. “After all this, you still don’t trust me?”

“I do trust you, Severus. It isn’t about that, and you know it.” With that, he stormed out of his quarters and headed down toward the black lake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Severus sat with Hermione on the couch, both of their clothes in disarray, obviously having recently fooled around on the couch. “What exactly am I waiting for? You know I have all those complaint reports to deal with. Half of them are from Minerva, and she complicates them to the point of it taking me nearly an hour to resolve each one.”

“We are coming to the school today,” she told him quietly. “You’re going to go look for Harry, but there is no sense in doing that before he even gets here.” She grabbed his hand and laced her finger between his. “I know you have to find him to give him information,” she said quietly.

He took a deep breath. “Today’s the day then?” he asked already knowing the answer. “It’s going to happen here? At the school?” he asked clearly worried. 

She nodded. “A school full of fighters, Severus. You, the other teachers, the order, the students you’ve all taught for years. It’s going to be okay.” She squeezed his hand. “Just stay here with me a little while longer. I know I’ve already lived through it, but it’s going to be hard waiting here, wanting to help knowing I can’t, knowing who is going to be lost.” 

Hermione started crying silent tears, and he wrapped his arm around her while he kissed her on the forehead. “Okay. I’ll stay with you,” he told her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

White lights blinded her as a room came into focus. She was standing in Severus’ hospital room watching herself rush out the door and call for the doctor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“Miss Granger’s going sitting her N.E.W.T.s at the Ministry, actually,” Minerva told him after he inquired about some of the students who might return to complete their seventh year of schooling. 

~~~

Severus Walked in to the Ministry Of Magic and sat on a bench on the side of the room watching hoards of people pass by. He stood abruptly and made his way over to the center of the room as Hermione emerged from the testing center. She stood around her friends, looked at him, gave him a small smile and ushered her friends out of the building.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Severus stood outside on the street corner pretending to read the paper as he watched the group of witches across the street over the top of the page. He tossed the paper into a bin and went into the bookstore after Hermione. He had been standing behind her, apparently trying to figure out how to approach her, when she stepped back into him. He hadn’t meant to startle her.

She spoke as if she didn’t even recognize him. She spoke as though he had been her professor and nothing more. He leaned back on the shelf behind him for support when he realized she somehow didn’t know what had happened over the last year and a half. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

The room was dark and cold. It was dusty and had an air of abandonment, but he slumped down into an armchair without tending to any of that. He had arrived back at Spinner’s End. After several minutes, he picked up his bag and headed upstairs to his room. When he pulled out his drawer to put away some of this clothes, he saw a letter on top of a box. It was addressed to him in Hermione’s hand writing. 

Hermione watched as he read the letter while he stepped backward to sit on his bed. She couldn’t watch this. She didn’t want to see his heart breaking. It was too much, so she turned away until the memory dissolved into another. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Sitting at a table in the back of a restaurant, Severus sipped his tea while he looked across the tables in front of him. On the other side of the room, sat Hermione with Ginny, Harry, and Ron. Ron had his arm around her casually as they sat there and chatted. She saw herself laughing. 

Hermione remembered that day. It was the day the boys had finished auror training. They had gone to lunch to celebrate. She looked back at Severus who wore his usual blank mask, but she knew it was hiding a great deal pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Back in his living quarters in the dungeons, Severus sat by the fire with half a bottle of whisky in his hand. His eyes were bloodshot, and the room was a bit of a mess with papers everywhere. Hermione wondered why she was watching this memory. It was depressing, and she was just watching him drink alone in a room. Just then, he sat up and hurried over to the desk in the corner of the room. He shuffled through one of the drawers until he found a tattered old notebook.

Hermione walked over to look at what he was doing. He had begun to copy some of the equations and notes down onto a separate piece of paper. She stood there watching him for several minutes before she realized that at least half of the ingredients he’d written were in the potion they’d brewed together. He was apparently just starting the scar removal cream. Perhaps it really had been for her. He had even told her that, but she hadn’t understood at the time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“I don’t have the time to go over the testing schedule with you, Severus. I told you. I’m booked all day on Friday. I’ve got to take care of the staff meeting, and I’ve already made a commitment to have tea with Miss Granger later in the evening. I have been putting her off long enough because I’ve been so busy,” Minerva told him.

He nodded. “Perhaps you could have her for lunch instead. I’m sure some of the other professor would be happy to see her as well,” he suggested. “Then you’re evening would be free, and we could fix the double booked time slots.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione sat back on the couch feeling numb yet overwhelmed. Severus sat beside her in silence while she mulled over everything she had just seen. It was several long minutes before she spoke. “I still can’t believe, after all of that, you waited months to approach me, even if you weren’t ready to share these memories with me.”

Severus folded his hands in his lap. “If I hadn’t been so convinced you were in love with Weasley,” he shook his head, “that you were going to return to him after everything was over, I wouldn’t have waited. I also would have told you how I felt about you long ago. I was a coward, and for that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t have faith in you, Hermione.”


	26. When In Rome

Hermione nodded, took a deep breath, and relaxed back into the couch. He clearly was being honest about his feelings for her. From what she just saw, she was happy with him, in spite of being trapped in the past, trapped in his quarters. The thought of having to sit in the Headmaster’s chambers while the battle raged below, made throat constrict. There was no sense in crying of it though. The battle was over, twice now apparently. She certainly didn’t need to relive it in her mind. 

How would a relationship with Severus even work outside the safety of the castle? The second they were spotted together, the gossip would be unbelievable. Hermione looked at the man sitting next to her on the couch and naked Snape forced himself to the front of her mind. Yes. She wanted to sleep with him again. There was no use denying that, but sex was not a relationship. Would she be basing this relationship on sex if she allowed it to continue? Before, she hadn’t considered dating the man. It was just sex. It was fantastic sex, but still. She groaned suddenly, and rubbed her face with her hands while mumbling something to herself.

“What is it?” he asked with worry in his voice. She hadn’t said anything for several minutes, and he had been waiting patiently. 

She looked at him for a moment before she admitted what she was thinking. “How many times have I slept with you?” His eyebrows shot up, and his cheeks puffed out as his breath left him slowly. She continued on paying no attention to his obvious discomfort with the question, “We’ve never even been on a date! Gods! What does that make me?” she asked horrified. A trollop. Her mother would call her a trollop! Severus let out a bark of laughter at her distress. “It’s not funny!” she insisted. “If we’re to do this,” she said motioning back and forth between the two of them, “then we’re going to do it properly.” She grimaced and added, “The third time, at any rate.” 

“Is that what you want, Hermione?” he asked. “Do you want to start over?”

She answered, “Well, it seems illogical to just walk away from all of this, even though it is impossibly complicated. You say you’re in love with me, and it’s entirely possible I was in love with you from what I saw. We obviously have a physical connection.” She couldn’t help but blush at that. Hermione slumped back against the couch. “I do have some concerns, though,” she said gnawing on her bottom lip.

“Like what?” Severus inquired tilting his head. He looked like a man ready to give answers, but it didn’t ease her worries.

“What if I don’t live up to…my other self?” she asked making a funny face. “And what are we going to tell people? We can’t tell them the truth.”

“You think too much,” he told her seriously. “I’ve already spent time with this you, and I know you are still the same person. It’s pretty simple, really. And as for what we tell people,” he shrugged, “we can tell them whatever you want. Tell them it started while we were brewing together.” Severus stood up and walked over toward the kitchen with the tea pot. “I know just the place to take you on our first date,” he announced with confidence. 

“Do you, now?” she asked standing up to follow him, not realizing he had distracted her from her impending panic attack. 

“Hm-hmm,” he hummed as he dumped out the tea, which had grown cold long before she emerged from the pensive. “Will tomorrow at five-thirty be acceptable to you?” Severus started washing out the pot by hand.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated. “Yes. Yes, alright.” She could do that. If he was willing to start over once again for her, his affection was something she didn’t want to go on without experiencing. It would definitely be something she would regret for years to come. 

Turning toward her and leaning his hip on the counter, he crossed his arms. “I’ll come to Grimmauld place to pick you up.”

What? “Why do you want to come there? You do know Harry lives there. Right? And why so early?” she asked not understanding his reasoning.

“It’s tradition for a wizard to pick up his date. That’s what you wanted. Isn’t it? As for the time, I can’t tell you that,” he shook his head. “You’ll just have to wait to find out. Be sure to eat a late lunch and wear comfortable shoes.” He looked down at her with a small crooked smile. “You’ve been through a lot today. Why don’t I walk you out?” he stated. 

Hermione was somewhat relieved he had brought the meeting to an end. She was quite exhausted after emerging from the pensive, and she figured she must look it, as well. Severus walked her all the way to the gate and stepped just outside the grounds with her. She stepped closer to him, and put her hand on his stomach. She wanted to kiss him again. It had been weeks, and she’d had to see it happen several times without being able to enjoy it just within the last two hours.

Severus grabbed her hand in his and informed her, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hermione,” before kissing the back of it gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Hermione heard the doorbell ring and she shouted down from her room, “Harry, can you get it? I’ve got my hands full.” She had been trying to tame her hair with Sleekeazy’s hair potions for an hour and had spilled it all over the carpet. Apparently, when applied to carpeting, it created a slip and slide. Hermione’s sore bum was the proof. It was a good thing she started getting ready early, or she would have to leave looking a mess. 

“Yeah. I’ve got it” he yelled to her coming out of the kitchen. 

She returned her attention to getting ready to go out with Severus. Hermione had ultimately decided on a simple navy dress with black flats. They were the most comfortable shoes she owned, aside from her sneakers, but she wasn’t about to wear those on a date. Well, perhaps if he had told her they were going hiking…who was she kidding? Hiking? She snorted imagining Severus in a sombrero trying to keep the sun off of his pale skin. 

Twenty minutes later, Hermione came down the stairs into the kitchen and stopped upon seeing Severus sitting at the table talking with Harry. It hadn’t dawned on her until that moment that he had come to Grimmauld Place intending to seeing Harry. He must have been the one at the door earlier, which would mean he’s been here for nearly half an hour…talking to Harry. Had he meant to get Harry out of his hair, or was it a gesture of affection for her? He was a Slytherin, so it was most likely both. 

Severus stood from the table once he noticed she had entered the room. He wore black trousers, and a white dress shirt under a charcoal sweater. Hermione had never seen him dressed like that before. Had she? “I didn’t know you were here,” she commented.

“I was a bit early,” he admitted while his eyes took in how she’d dress for him appreciatively. 

“Early?” Harry said, still sitting at the table. 

“Well, I’m ready to go if you are,” she said lamely. 

“Ready to go where?” Harry asked. “And why are you dressed like that, Hermione?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Severus wouldn’t tell me.”

“Mr. Potter…” Snape started.

Harry interrupted, “Oh My God!” His eyes were wide with shock. 

“Harry, you said you would support my decisions,” she reminded him.

“Yeah, but Ron’s going to have a coronary,” he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Wow. Just...wow.” 

Hermione huffed, “Well, he doesn’t have know about it yet. This is only our first date.” She glanced at Severus out of the corner of her eye. 

“I would greatly appreciate my evening not making the cover of tomorrow’s paper, Mr. Potter,” Severus interjected sternly. “I trust you are through telling everyone about my personal life.” 

He looked at Snape as if he had forgotten he was even in the room with them. “Er- Yes, Sir.” Harry looked from Snape to Hermione, who was trying to contain a grin. “Enjoy your evening, then.” he said looking like he’d swallowed too big of a bite of food. 

“I intend to,” Hermione told him. “Severus,” she held out her hand to him. Once they were standing on the door step together, he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Being in his arms felt right. It felt like home, and she was suddenly no longer nervous about what he had planned for the two of them. Hermione would have lost her balance from the sudden disapparation had he not been holding on to her so tightly. Once steady, she stepped back from him and said jokingly, “Thanks for the warning.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going to arrive early. I thought if I spoke with him, it might soften the blow when he realized I was there to pick you up for a date,” he told her.

She quickly replied, “But you didn’t have to pick me up there.”

“True, but now your best friend knows about us,” he said seriously. 

She only nodded to him, thankful she didn’t have to hide him from Harry. He gave her another one of his crooked smiles, put one hand on her shoulder, and turned her around. Hermione’s mouth fell open. “I’ve always wanted to see this place. I’ve been to Italy with my parents before, but they had already seen the Pantheon. They booked our trip with a bunch of other stuff. I was so disappointed,” she explained her delight at the perfect place he had chosen for the two of them to start their new lives together.

“I know. You told me,” said Severus. Hermione’s eyes lit up and she looked at him with a brilliant smile. He grabbed her by hand, laced his fingers with hers, and gave her arm a gentle tug. “Come on,” he said as he led her forward toward the entrance. “They close in two hours, so we best get moving if you want to see everything.”


End file.
